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eyebagshawty · 7 months

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Is It Really You? (Part 1)

Pairing: Astarion x Spawn!Reader

Summary: While Astarion is roaming the streets for Cazador's next meal, he stumbles upon someone crying near the edge of the lower city. Turns out, you wouldn't be a worthy victim, and you're a lot closer to him than you may imagine.

Song Inspo: Is It Really You? By Loathe

Warnings: Canon-typical violence/cruelty, mentions of abuse, mentions of trauma, NSFW (18+ ONLY), Cazador is his own warning

Other Tags: Slow burn, eventual smut, fem!Reader, soulmates

A/N: Hello! I wanted to make a self indulgent first installment to this playlist event I’ve got linked below. This will probably be more than 2 parts. I'd love to create a tag list if folks are interested, but alas I do not know how. If you would like to be tagged in future updates, please comment below or message me and I'll make sure to add you.

Part 2 Part 3

Your dagger sliced through the belly of a dead sheep, your hands immediately moving to inspect the entrails. While magic in Faerûn was quite advanced, nobody had succeeded in finding out how to perfectly see the future. This meant that most had to resort to unusual forms of divination, such as haruspicy. This involved the sacrifice of an animal, inspecting the entrails, and speaking to the god that blessed one with this ‘talent’.

Your thumb rolled over the small intestine, causing your eyes to roll back into your skull. “Well girl, what do you see? Say it,” Cazador hissed, his nails digging into the sides of your throat. The dark lady, Shar, whispered into your thoughts.

“Lady Jannath will agree to your request to meet, you will acquire 6 spawn,” you mumbled, your mouth dry and lips trembling. Your head reeled as your eyes rolled back into place, your vision a little blurred as you got your bearings. You were so hungry, but you knew the vision wasn��t good enough to acquire more than a rat.

“And what of the deal?” His nails clenched harder, just breaking the skin of your neck. Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes, fear nestling into the depths of your stomach.

“The dark lady knows nothing of the deal. The shadows were too great to understand if you would gain control over the area. All she told me is that you will keep the power you have now at least, my lord.” You choked out. With the grasp he had on your neck, he threw your head into the sacrificial table in front of you. You crumbled to the ground, hands immediately covering your head in defense. “Please my lord, I am hungry. It is all she allowed me to see I beg of you.” He tugged you by your hair onto your knees and bent down so that both of you were eye level with one another. You felt the all too familiar intrusion of your mind, your every vulnerable thought being exposed to him. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to keep eye contact with him; his thumb traced the ridge and squeezed it when he had pried all available information from you.

“I see you do not lie. Leave and fetch another animal, something larger. We will do this again, and you will tell me how this deal ends. Once you do, you will be fed.” You stood, and were roughly pushed to the door, feet tripping over each other as you grasped the door frame for support. “Now! Leave. My. Sight,” he hissed, the door slamming closed behind you as you stumbled through the darkness of the castle halls.

Astarion kicked a pebble with his shoe, slowly walking through the quiet streets of the lower city. His goal for tonight was the Elfsong, maybe a lonely human down on their luck and 5 drinks deep. His skin crawled at the thought, disgust with himself, with Cazador, worming it’s way through his veins.

He let his mind drift, thinking about the past 200 years — he at least thought it was around 200 years, but he had honestly lost count around year 5. He was nowhere near the Elfsong, instead walking near the edge of the city near the woods. Cazador surely can’t punish me more if I get his meal back to him an hour late, he thought. His feet stopped in place as he heard sniffling and stifled sobs nearby. He snuck closer, peering around the stone wall of a house, and he saw her.

His heart lurched, feeling a strange pull towards her; he wanted to see her face, maybe comfort her. His nose scrunched up and he averted his gaze. He shouldn’t be doing this, he needed to stick to the plan lest he end up with Godey for a fortnight. He looked back to her to see her looking straight at him, eyes the same color of red as his with her fangs peeking through in her shocked expression.

Warmth flooded his body as he stared at her. He had heard about true vampire mates from Dalyria whenever she gabbed on and on as he tried to fall into a trance. Could she be his? No, she can’t be. You’re just a spawn. This couldn’t possibly happen to you, you imbecile. He shook his head free from all thought and walked over to the bench she sat on. “Is this seat taken?”

If you had the blood to blush, you’re sure your face would be beet red. You’d never seen another spawn while out in the city, nevertheless the castle. Cazador only ever allowed you to interact with Leon, the longest favored spawn waiting hand and foot on his ‘cherished’ haruspex. You looked up into his eyes, the same wine red color, and you felt warmth flood through your cold skin and a tug at your unbeating heart. You nodded and patted the space next to you.

He sat with very little distance next to you, and glanced down at the wolf below you. He looked over your features more and noticed the fresh scratches and dirt covering your form. “Forgive me for asking… but were you fighting a wolf?” You let out a defeated chuckle.

“I’m the haruspex for our lordship. The vision Shar granted me tonight wasn’t to his liking so he sent me searching for a better, more sentient animal,” you looked down to the cobblestones below you, sighing weakly, “I’m not sure the vision will change. I can’t control what she tells me, which probably means no food for a month until his next request.”

Astarion placed a hand on your shoulder, scowling at the same ground. A shock raced through both of your bodies at the contact, jumping lightly. “You don’t deserve that. I’m sorry,” as he spoke, a thought entered his mind. “How come I’ve never seen you before? Surely I would have recognized your face you’re…” he trailed off. Your head tilted in question, waiting for him to continue. “Beautiful.”

You smiled at his quiet admission, looking over to his stark white curls, his pointed ears, his gaunt but perfectly sharp cheekbones. “He keeps me next to his personal quarters. I’ve never been allowed to see another spawn except for Leon, who oversees my practices and brings me the occasional rat— or cat if I’m lucky. We’ve become quite close. Well, as close as we can be with Godey’s supervision.” You heard a light growl at that. “I don’t love him of course, I’ve kind of lost any hope for that kind of relationship since I was turned,” you quickly assured, not wanting Astarion to get the wrong idea. You’d only just met him, you didn’t even know his name, but you felt deep down that you wanted to please him. “I also think you’re quite beautiful,” you whispered, looking to the sky in shy embarrassment.

Astarion didn’t understand why his stomach filled with rage when you spoke of being close to Leon. He wanted you to be close with him. He wanted to learn everything about you; what you loved, what you hated, who you were before this new life. He slid his palm from your shoulder to your hand, stroking your thumb gently as you looked back to him. “What’s your name?” He asked, already knowing it would be the most beautiful word to flutter from his lips.

You gave your name to him, your eyelids becoming hooded as you slowly leaned closer to him. He smiled and fully intwined your fingers.

“Astarion.” His lips met yours, and the tugging at your heart strained even more, an inseparable bond being created. You reached your free hand to his curls, pushing one behind his ear. As your finger stroked across the shell of his ear he let out a breathy moan into your mouth. He wrapped his free arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

He knew that you were his; his true mate.

He nipped softly at your lips and pulled away reluctantly. You both stared at each other with eyes full of adoration and soft, tender love in the mix. You smiled and cupped his cheek, eyes never leaving his. “Tell me about yourself, Astarion.”

He looked off to the side. “Hmm… well. Before all of this, I was a magistrate. There’s not much I remember except for that,” he sighed softly and you stroked his cheek with your thumb, encouraging him to continue. “I was attacked in an alleyway, beaten within an inch of my life. Cazador found me, offered help and more, and I took it. Now I’m here, I’ve been here for quite a while. 200 years perhaps. Seducing, silencing, and bringing back unaware victims for Cazador to consume. It’s monstrous,” he snarled.

“I don’t think you’re a monster,” you mumbled, searching his eyes which softened before you. “I think you’re just trying to get by. Same as me, same as Leon, same as all of the others. I think people often forget that spawn are victims to him just as anybody else. Sure, the longer end of the stick, but we’re all grasping at the same one.” He leaned into your hand, nuzzling your palm with his cheek.

“My dear, you might be the only one who sees that. But nevertheless, thank you. Now, enough about me. Tell me about yourself,” he gently smiled, rubbing your lower back with the hand wrapped around your waist.

“Well I don’t remember much of my family, but I remember my mother. Not her face, or anything specific, but how she made me feel. She made me feel so loved, supported. I cried a lot after I was turned. Because all I felt was this loss for her,” you sniffled a bit mentioning her, and Astarion squeezed your waist in a comforting gesture. “He must have loved me in his own fucked up way, because the next day I was bathed, dressed, and taken to a mother superior of Shar to learn haruspicy. It’s been about 350 years since that day, but I remember it like it was just this morning.”

He quirked his brow and the corners of his mouth turned downward. His concern flooded through your chest. “What do you mean by ‘loved’?” You filled with shame and broke eye contact with him. You maneuvered his arms from around you and stood, worry flashing across Astarion’s face. You motioned him over to undo the laces of your simple blood red gown. “If you also have one of his poems I wouldn’t be sur-“ his breath hitched as he took in the state of your back.

Near every inch of skin was marked by Cazador, each bite mark, bruise, and scratch in various stages of healing. “I don’t know if I would call it true love, he’s completely insane about me speaking to anyone. That’s why I can only talk to Leon, someone he knows wouldn’t turn their back on him. He’s tried to… be with me a couple of times. Each time I turn him down it’s a week in the dungeon.”

The emotional pain radiated off of you into Astarion’s heart. He could feel the pain of his mate, how she had been used. He brought her to his chest and wrapped a protective arm around her back, the pain being replaced with pure hate. “I want to get you away from him. I don’t want him to touch you ever again,” he growled. He buried his face in your hair and kissed your head. “You’re mine. And I’m yours. As long as you’ll have me.” He nuzzled the spot that he kissed.

You looked up into his love filled eyes timidly. “Astarion, I want that too, but I truly don’t know you very well. I don’t know why I feel so strongly for you, like I was made for you, but strangely I’m falling for you. I want to see where this goes first. And I don’t think Cazador will ever give up on finding me if I’m gone.”

He kissed your neck again and rubbed your sides. “You should ask Leon about true mates, without Godey if you can,” he mumbled as he looked to the sky. The blackness of the night had faded to a dark blue. He needed you to get back to the palace safely; the sun would rise soon. “Darling, we must go.”

Your head popped up, gasping at the lightness of the night sky. You let him take you back to the palace, frantically running away from the early morning Baldurian sun, the dead wolf cradled in your other arm. You were now a block away from the palace. Astarion took your wrist and nipped it. Your heart lurched in its place from the bond and you felt it might snap in two from how tight it had gotten. “Astarion… when will I see you again?” You looked frantically to the castle and then back to him, your worries being calmed ever so slightly by seeing him before you.

“Whenever the time is right, make sure Shar obscures one of your visions. I hunt for him every night. I will wait at the Elfsong tavern every night to see you again my love.” He kissed you fervently, lips moving affectionately with yours. He squeezed your hand and let it go. “Now go on darling, I would never forgive myself if you got punished for being out too late.” You walked backwards toward the palace, only breaking eye contact with your mate when you looked up to the window, clutching the wolf’s body tighter to your chest as you saw Cazador looking down to you in the courtyard from a tall window in his quarters. Astarion was just out of eye view from him and mouthed, “I’ll be right behind you, my sweet.” He was less scared of the punishment he would be receiving later, as he finally had something — someone — that was his.

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion #18+ content #bg3 #bg3 astarion #slow burn #angst #astarion ancunin #soulmates #astarion x tav #astarion romance #fanfic #bg3 smut

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mtkay13 · 3 months

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im not op but im gonna bounce off on it still!!!! mt such a great analysis i love what youre saying about how the narrative in tyk works, how through recontextualization (either by the narrative itself, shifting angles at a later date, or the reader when rereading the novel) things come to light that were intentionally or by happenstance hidden before. many thoughts regarding narrative and how it works (and how zzs makes use of it). this topic specifically has my brain rotting since i first read the novel. tyk has always felt like a tragedy disguised as a comedy to me, youre putting it so well. anyway, this is not an analysis but your words (and also op‘s words) reminded me of the scene in ch.8 (i think) when wenzhou are in the forest and investigate these two sudden murders and follow wkx‘s underling into the abandoned graveyard. especially the scene at the graveyard, told through zzs‘s eyes, is so super interesting to me. i imagine in other wuxia stories this would be atmospheric, spooky, maybe intimidating and creepy. but zzs seems so unimpressed! he relays the atmospheric markers (he remarks on the state of the graveyard, mentions the rat with its red eyes, the single owl perching utop the branch, the odd fog) but narrates it in such a way that the first time reading it, it sounded jarring and almost comical to me. it gets even weirder by wkx starting with his ghost stories and trying to impress zzs, who continues to not be impressed at all. i feel like, since zzs is such a die hard jianghu fanboy, and this is basically his first time doing jianghu things (and he seems to be aware that this scenario is characteristically wuxia), he is basically not just narrating whats happening but also commenting upon it from the angle of someone who had higher expectations and is very eager to follow that path to its end to see what turns up, but doesnt really seem all that moved when happening upon these things in reality. zzs is not the usual wuxia hero, and tyk is very earnest in taking these differences and zzs‘s familiarity with violence seriously and has zzs react and act in authentic ways. like, when they find that murder scene in the woods upon following the scream, and immediately start their weird investigation-flirting-insulting and wkx goes and casually pulls that guy whos hanging in a tree to the ground so they can have a better look at it, and it just severs the poor guy’s head. thats so fucked up and strange!!!!! but its so downplayed its actually jarring!!!! its almost comical!!!!! anyway hello hi hello mt!!!! i didnt mean to write so much i just have a lot of thoughts hehehehe

hahaha hello!!!! Sorry I took so much time to respond!!

Yes yes to all this!! Essentially answering so this can be out in the open hehehe. One thing that I feel like reacting to, though---translating Qi Ye, I recently stumbled upon several references of ZZS being a "seasoned jianghu traveller" and having had a lot of experience in jianghu already; so I guess we can conclude that he does have experience in jianghu (only that he left it around 8-9 years ago) but that he probably always had a remote look at it, from the shadows from which Siji operated. This time, he gets to "play" too, in a way. I feel like, given how smug he tends to sound when bringing up Siji's skills and activities, he may have this sort of patronizing look on the "sillier", more "classical" strange wuxia adventures, which he has been able to watch but almost like a puppet master (since Siji controlled a lot of the politics etc) and his fun, curious, detached and "demystifying" approach could be reflecting that. Anyway, thank you so much for the thoughts!!!

#ask #meta

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anti-katsuki-lounge · 1 year

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Couple of questions involving “The Detainment Rescue of Izuku”.

1. I have tried to find other alternatives to how this could have played out better instead of what we got in canon. And the only option I could have thought of was if instead of just vanishing on them, Izuku talked to them in person about his plan and make it clear that it was his choice and he wouldn’t falter from it, but he was open to ideas about how the others could assist. But the glaring problem would be that AFO would be in on what they were doing via Aoyama.

So I guess what I want to say is that this entire situation is garbage and ruins so many characters. If you had the choice to rewind the plot, how far back would you go to get to the part where you think the story could still be at the very least decent?

2. The Class 1-A vs Izuku had many characters come off useless, though I do want to acknowledge the few that I think were at least trying to tackle the actual issue: Todoroki, Shoji, Asui and Ojiro. I think simply relieving Izuku some burdens, even if it’s spreading out and keeping non essential villains from hurting innocents and keeping civilians safe.

But who are YOUR characters that you felt got bastardized the most? Where their actions or words are so…WTF and/or OOC?

For me:

•Sato: who the hell are you to stop someone from making SWEETS? And using ERI against him? Good lord, man!

Uraraka: I saw the back flash of everyone getting concerned for Midoriya. The entire thing. Yet that look on her face with what she said, “We were worried about you.”? I didn’t buy that for a second. That’s the face of, “FFS, We have to clean up after YOUR mess AGAIN.” Of course we see her back in character later, but still…

Kaminari: Absolute bullshit. You’re Bakugo’s lapdog, you always cater to make sure Bakugou is having fun and being with everyone when he clearly doesn’t want to. The last conversation I recall you having with Midoriya is you being jealous of possibly having sex with Camie DURING A TEST. I don’t see any resemblance of friendship between you two.

Tokoyami: I was completely expecting him to make a gothic and poetic comparison between how Midoriya currently is, and how Tokoyami was at the training camp, when Dark Shadow was going berserk. I was actually thinking Tokoyami would make a callback to that and that he wouldn’t forgive himself turning away someone suffering like he had. And what do we get? A reference to an inconsequential line from the freakin SPORTS FESTIVAL.

Yaoyorozu: Just…holy shit, this pissed me off. Look how they massacred my girl! Not only is she relying on the group of adults that, other than All Might, have pathetically supported Midoriya, and thinking they will do any good. But she also tried to knock Midoriya out chained up like he was a psychopath from Tartarus, where as a walking, murderous monster like Gigantomachia, she treats more humanely by simply creating canisters of the knockout gas and getting the heroes to get him to ingest. Just…I hated how Yaoyorozu came off as a bitch in this…and I hate using that word with her…

But I can’t be completely mad at her, she got her sources on how Midoriya is from the rat-face bastard “that knew him better than anyone else”. And he’s in a league of bullshit of his own.

Sorry that this dissolved into a rant, I just hate all of this SO much.

So for the first part, I'd rewind it to Kacchan vs Deku 1. Once Katsuki unleashes the explosion, I'll have All Might arrest him (yes, arrest, because that was excessive use of force and reckless endangerment, if not outright second degree attempted murder). With Katsuki gone, I can spend more time focusing on the other parts of MHA, such as side characters, the themes Hori failed to tackle, etc.

Second part, I honestly think everyone was bastardized for even agreeing with Katsuki, but I think Momo got it the worst because she created that freaking chair thing. Everyone else did also get extremely screwed though (except maybe Tooru because I genuinely think Hori forgot about her because I don't think she's even in any of the pages and Yuuga cause he's the traitor and all). Katsuki ends up being more insufferable but I wouldn't say he was bastardized because he was already an irredeemable shithead to begin with and this only confirms this moment. Tenya and Shoto do come out less damaged because what they say shows that they've grown due to their arcs, but they still are damaged for agreeing to Katsuki's plan.

#anti katsuki bakugou #anti bakugo katsuki #anti bakugo #anti bakugou #mha critical

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voraciousvore · 8 months

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Big Corp Inc. (23/43)

Chapter 23: A Pitiful New Home

The rest of the workday was uneventful. Candy didn’t have to worry about Mr. Hardon harassing her, since he was upstairs in meetings all day. She didn’t know why, but Ronny mercifully left her alone as well. Candy kept working until her shift was done. She had made up her mind. Since she had nowhere to go, she was going to stay in the building.

She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she didn’t want to be out on the streets, homeless. Even if she were on the human side, she wouldn’t feel safe or comfortable, and she’d have no place for her belongings. Candy figured, since she was so small in the Giant building, nobody would notice if she made a home for herself on the third floor. It was hardly an optimal place to live, but at least she’d have shelter from the elements and access to essential amenities like water.

She didn’t think she could get away with living in her cubicle, but there was plenty of space in the massive building. She just had to find an inconspicuous corner where nobody would disturb her things. After some consideration, she placed her hope on the janitor closet. Once the office cleared out, she’d scope it out and see if it was a suitable location for her to live temporarily. Candy shut off her computer, hid behind her monitor, and waited.

The sounds and vibrations of Giant voices and footsteps swelled as the employees wrapped up their work for the day and vacated the premises. She heard Mr. Hardon return to his office and lock the door behind him as he left. He glanced over at her desk, but when he didn’t see her assumed she had already left as well. Even Martin stopped by to check on her, perhaps hoping to walk her out. Candy was tempted to reveal herself, but she needed to figure out her living situation first.

Eventually, the whole floor was deserted. Candy peeked out from behind the monitor, and once she was certain the coast was clear she emerged from her hiding spot and rode the capsule launcher to the floor. She collected her bags and changed into her socks and sneakers so her feet wouldn’t get sore on the long journey ahead.

Her rolling suitcase sounded loud in the relative hush of the empty floor. Much like when she arrived early with Martin’s cake, the only sound was the smooth hum of the electronics. Candy felt unsettled and despondent. She couldn’t believe she had been reduced to such a state. She was going to be living like a rat in the walls. She sighed. It was better than living outside.

After walking what must’ve been miles, Candy made it to the closet. She slipped under the door, since the crack between the door and the floor was wide enough for her body to fit. The closet was too dark to see anything, so Candy went back out to grab a flashlight from her bag and returned. She clicked on the light and surveyed the area. The closet was basically what Candy expected: dusty, musty, and full of cleaning supplies. There was a mop bucket, a couple of brooms, a duster, a vacuum cleaner, big jugs of chemicals, and other supplies, blown up to a huge scale and thick with dust.

Candy explored around inside, coughing on plumes of dust. She ran into an old cobweb and shrieked, flailing to release her body from the sticky gossamer threads. Once she freed herself, she pawed at the substance on her limbs, clothes, and hair, disgusted. Candy did not like bugs, at all. She hoped she wouldn’t run into a nasty oversized spider or similar critter.

Candy found that the back corner of the closet was protected from view, and could function as a place to sleep and stash her stuff. She cleaned up the dust bunnies and cobwebs as best she could and went outside to retrieve her bags. She was able to slip her suitcase and backpack underneath the door. She lugged them to the back of the closet and stored them behind the mop bucket. She discovered a package of giant clean sponges and hauled one over to the corner so she could use it as a mattress. It wasn’t anywhere near as comfortable as a real bed, but it was preferable to sleeping on the cold, hard ground.

Candy changed out of her work uniform into casual clothes and pulled a blanket out of her suitcase. It was early for bed, but she was tired and just wanted to lay down. She didn’t know what else to do anyways. She laid back on the sponge and wrapped up in her blanket, staring up at the broom handles stretching above her into the darkness. She sneezed from all the dust particles and sniffled.

This closet was her new home. Candy started to cry. She wished she could be back in her own apartment. She just wanted to live her own life and be self-reliant and independent. She felt so alone. She felt like a failure. She could only imagine what her parents would say, if they saw her sleeping in a closet. Her pride was wounded at the thought. She closed her eyes and huddled up on her side. Eventually, she drifted off to sleep.

She woke up early the next morning, only to find she was still ensnared in the depressing mess that was her life. Candy rubbed her face with her hands. Sleeping on a mattress-sized sponge was terribly incommodious. She had tossed and turned all night, and her back ached. She stretched out her muscles, grabbed some toiletries, and walked over to the human bathroom. At least, being the only human working at Big Corp Inc., she didn’t have to concern herself with anyone walking in on her. The bathroom was minimal, just a single unisex cramped room with a toilet and sink. She did her best to freshen herself up while dressing for work, but she wished she could take a proper shower. She could get away with it for a day or two, but at some point she’d need to figure something out.

She hadn’t eaten anything for dinner last night, so she was hankering for breakfast. Unfortunately, her food options were limited, since she couldn’t take any refrigerated or frozen food with her from her apartment, and she only had so much space in her suitcase. She had a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, granola bars, and a few packets of instant oatmeal. She wanted something filling, so she selected oatmeal and went to the break room to use the microwave.

Candy sat at the human table on the counter and picked at her oatmeal sadly. She became lost in thought and forgot about the time, until one of the Giant employees waddled into the room. He was a rotund gentleman with a big belly barely contained in his suit and a moon-shaped face covered with a short brown beard. Candy had seen him around the office before, but she didn’t know his name. She froze up, not wanting to be seen. Although the Giant likely didn’t wish harm on her, she could never be certain.

He went straight to the vending machine, and after surveying the generous selection of snacks within started feeding the machine coins. Candy tried to remain inconspicuous as she rode the capsule launcher down and headed for the exit. The Giant unexpectedly pounded on the vending machine with his beefy fist in frustration and cursed, making Candy jump and cry out at the noise. He had ordered a bag of chips, but the packet was stuck inside the machine. It leaned against the clear plastic tauntingly, just out of reach. The Giant turned around upon hearing Candy’s exclamation and raised an eyebrow when he saw her. His eyes lit up with an idea.

“Hey, you!” he called out to her, lumbering over. One of his elephantine black shoes stomped right next to Candy. She shrank back, unnerved by the sudden attention. From the ground, she could barely see the Giant’s face over his protruding belly.

“M-me?” Candy squeaked, as if she wasn’t the only other person in the room.

“Yeah, you. You’re perfect. Just what I need,” the Giant replied, stroking his beard. He labored to bend over with his impressive girth and grabbed Candy in his huge meaty paw. He ignored Candy’s shout of protest and marched over to the vending machine, holding her tiny body up to the transparent barrier. “See that chip bag? I want you to climb up inside the machine and knock it down for me.”

Candy was perturbed by this demand. Going inside a huge complicated machine with moving parts sounded risky. The Giant wasn’t being very polite either. He had grabbed her without her permission and didn’t bother to say please with his brusque insistence that she obey his command. Despite these concerns, though, Candy needed all the friends in the office that she could get. If she was stuck in a sticky situation, as happened all too often, it couldn’t hurt to have another Giant on her side that owed her a favor. “Well, okay,” she agreed, albeit reluctantly. “I’ll do it.”

“Great!” the Giant vocalized with glee. Huffing with his great weight, he crouched down and opened the plastic flap on the bottom, where he would normally reach in to claim his purchased snack, and deposited Candy inside. When he released the flap, Candy had to duck to avoid getting decapitated by the anti-theft barrier that snapped down. She stared up at the vast array of snacks stretching high above her head. She couldn’t see how she could possibly scale the flat walls around her, which lacked any texture or handholds. The only accessible ridge she could grab was the edge of the barrier that slammed down earlier.

She hoisted herself up onto the edge, which was just wide enough for her to step on if she put her feet sideways. However, she couldn’t get any higher from this position, since she wasn’t tall enough to reach anything, even if she stretched her arms above her head. She was at an impasse.

The Giant outside the vending machine was getting impatient. He couldn’t see her or what she was doing. He opened the flap to take a peek, springing the anti-theft barrier up into place. Candy was knocked over as the surface she was standing on suddenly snapped up. She realized this opportunity was her path forward and rushed over to latch on to the nearest coil before the barrier lowered again.

Now that she was higher up among the snacks, climbing was easier. She regretted wearing her heels as she clambered up a slippery package of cream-filled mini cakes, clinging on to the coil above. She hauled herself up to the next row and scaled a tower of crackers, followed by a gigantic chocolate bar and a jumbo box of hard candies, until at long last she made it up to the chips being held hostage by the machine.

Candy took a moment to catch her breath after the arduous climb. She didn’t want to think about having to make the journey all the way back down. The Giant tapped his fat salami of a finger on the exterior of the machine impatiently. Candy looked back, panting, and made an effort to hold back her irritation. She clambered awkwardly to the edge of the coil and attempted to dislodge the chip bag by pushing on it with her arm. Her light touch wasn’t enough to force it down. She leaned further out and pressed down on it again. When the stubborn bag still didn’t budge, Candy got frustrated and used both her arms and one leg, utilizing most of her weight.

The bag finally came loose and dropped to the retrieval area below. Unfortunately for Candy, the sudden descent resulted in her losing her balance and toppling forward. The heel of her shoe caught on the coil and jammed, causing her to flip upside down. Her ankle twisted and she cried out in pain. Candy felt dizzy as she hung upside down, looking at the staggering height that she could fall. She tried to reach up to her stuck shoe, but the movement caused a sharp pain to ricochet through her sprained ankle, so she retreated to her original position, dangling helplessly.

Candy looked out through the clear plastic barrier. The Giant had claimed his chip bag and opened it. He stood there watching her in her predicament, munching on chips. Candy was close to his eye level and could see his massive, expressionless face gazing upon her. He shoved another chip in his mouth and scratched his beard, chewing thoughtfully.

“Help!” Candy exclaimed, waving her arms to make clear she was in distress. “I’m stuck! Get me out of here! Help!” She wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hear her clearly through the barrier, but he could plainly see her. The Giant seemed to be in deliberation with himself for a moment. He glanced around the break room, then looked back at Candy and shrugged. Candy gave him a pleading look, which was met with indifference. The Giant turned around and lumbered away, leaving Candy stunned.

“Wait! Come back!” she cried, but he didn’t listen or care. Candy was on her own.

Chapter 24

Chapter 1

#g/t #giant/tiny #giant #tiny #g/t writing #size difference #giant tiny #big corp inc

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nerves-nebula · 1 year

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wait I legit thought that the rat dad figure being (?) in TMNT was extremely neglectful and that's why the four stick together because they essentially had to raise themselves alone while hiding from the rest of society?

Like that's why they're big on fighting/being strong is because they had to protect each other from whatever dangers might come and try getting rid of them all for being mutants and stuff.

Also thought they grew up in the sewers and had to climb out and steal a few things at night and that's why they dressed up as ninjas originally. So they could steal food/some supplies and like not die of starvation or whatever

(I have not seen any versions of the show and have only a vague understanding of TMNT. It sounds like it's ripe for dysfunctional family dynamics possibly??)

GHAGHAG OK SOOOO THE THING ISSSS THAT I HAVE A LOT OF OPINIONS ON SPLINTER and the nature of abuse/neglect in the tmnt franchise BUT

the thing is that there are a lot of versions of TMNT that I haven't seen, including any original/old versions or comics SO mind you that my opinions here are also mostly crafted through cultural osmosis, and some vague memories of comics/tv shows. the only tmnt show ive watched in its entirety has been the 2018 version (ROTTMNT).

THAT BEING SAID: I don't think its unfair to call most versions of splinter kind of bad parents. theres definitely versions of him that are barely parents at all, really more of a Master figure who teaches the turtles to fight and trains them, than like, a Dad. 2018 is prolly the most Dad like one (they even call him dad and pops and stuff)

the thing is that TMNT can be either incredibly lighthearted or really really angst-y. They do live in the sewers cause they can't usually live above ground with people, but this really ranges from "all humans hate and fear them and will attack them on sight" to "they just need to stay in the shadows and make sure they dont spook anybody" and sometimes it barely matters at all and people are just like "wow cool costumes guys"

and so in those lighthearted versions, while splinter might not be portrayed as a really cool great dad, he is usually a really cool great NINJA MASTER. so any kind of symptoms of neglect that could come from not being raised by PARENTS is usually forgotten/hand waved because who needs parents when you have your brothers??? COwabunGA lets go eat pizza :)

and thats FINE thats the tone they're going for its ok, even if logically it would be an emotional nightmare. this is a show about teenage mutant ninja turtles its ok to not be logical.

im actually not sure why they're ninjas, apart from Master Splinter training them to BE ninjas. though there are definitely versions where they're being hunted/seen as threats and that's why they need to Get Good at fighting.

so to recap: splinter isn't always portrayed as a good person or a good guardian, but usually the story doesn't really delve into that or frame it as abuse/neglect. sometimes he's "too harsh" or "too cold" but usually nothing deeper than that.

WHICH BRINGS US TO RISE OF THE TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES, the 2018 version that ive watched all of.

THE THING ABOUT ROTTMNT is that they made me uncomfortable by making jokes about splinter being a neglectful shitty dad, which i made a whole post about a while ago. and while they did make him a better dad LATER on it really really weirded me out how his neglect wasn't super focused on except for like. one or two episodes??

the thing is that splinter needs to be neglectful so that the boys can go out and have adventures and I GET THAT I REALLY DO as a storyteller some things just need to be hand-waved I GET IT. BUT. why draw attention to it if you dont plan on there being long term affects???

the only result seems to be that he Becomes a Better Dad but I can tell you first hand if my parents did a turn around like that it would NOT fix everything and I GUESS i'm just weirdly disappointed that they pointed out the neglect, made jokes about it, and then didn't reallyyyy go into it more. I mean im sure if I wanted to I could go into analysis mode and be like "well these character arcs could point to the ways neglect has effected them" but to be HONEST that'd probably be more me projecting than anything else.

AND LIKE. if they didn't want to discuss neglect why even bring it up???

and your point about it being a set up ripe for familial abuse/dysfunction is TRUE, but is also hardly ever the focus of the story. sure the stories focus on interpersonal issues, but its almost never framed through the lens of "these kids are being neglected" or "the reason they're having interpersonal issues because of the neglect they suffer" because well. that's just not very cowabunga. that's not very Kids Show. why not just have Raph and Leo fight over being the leader or again or something that's still a conflict but its less existentially draining.

and like MAYBE there's a version out there, some obscure comic run or something, that addresses all these issues and gives me the catharsis I crave BUT UNTIL THEN I will continue redrawing childhood memories of my shitty family superimposed onto TMNT characters.

SORRY for this huge, loosely jumbled together ramble but you activated my tmnt abuse/neglect fixation trap card

#ask #tmnt #master splinter #long post

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hinacu-arts · 2 years

Text

I posted 753 times in 2022

That's 689 more posts than 2021!

225 posts created (30%)

528 posts reblogged (70%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@help-i-need-a-cool-username

@hinacu-arts

@millylotus

@void-inked-pen

@freakadr0id

I tagged 713 of my posts in 2022

Only 5% of my posts had no tags

#hinacu tmnt - 166 posts

#rottmnt - 114 posts

#hinacu au - 106 posts

#hinacu sonic - 98 posts

#rwby - 86 posts

#hinacu rwby - 80 posts

#tffm fic - 78 posts

#hinacu xover - 67 posts

#tmnt 2012 - 61 posts

#bbc the fic - 54 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#when i walk and i really wanna put a sash in but would i ever actually wear it? no i'll leave it out for now maybe i'll add some jewelry and

My Top Posts in 2022:

Some sonic drawings i wanna do after i figure out how to draw them

Tails sitting on Tom's shoulders. They are wearing matching sunglasses

Sonic puffing up all spiky

Maddie and Knuckles doing yoga together

Knuckles demolishing a carnival strength game

Redraw these scenes:

See the full post

390 notes - Posted April 17, 2022

One again on the cusp of finally attempting a fic, and once again its crack taken seriously

You know all those fics where 2012!Mikey shows up in Riseverse and the brothers instantly adopt him and he doesnt want to go home? Yeah its that but from the 2012 gangs perspective, as they fight the Rise cast in stages (they win, they "get Mikey back"). Leo and Donnie are always Extra™️ so its set up like a videogame, and the boss battle is Splinter Rat Jitsu. Theres a fog machine so all 2012 can see of Casey Jr. is the glowing eyes in his mask. April introduces herself by coming up behind 12!Raph and hitting him so hard he flies. Donnie's "stage" is Albertoland and he's clearly unhinged the entire time. Raph doesnt really wanna fight so its essentially him just pushing 2012 back with little effort. Leo and Mikey Dr. Delicate Touch are a duo. Cassandra comes out of the shadows with both her masks on and gives 2012 a run for their money. At the end 2012 run through the last door, expecting to see 12!Mikey tied up, but he's just chilling with Draxum on the couch eating chips and salsa

EDIT: i did it Ao3 and FFnet

470 notes - Posted September 21, 2022

another possible crossover scene that has absolutely nothing to do with anything (but i laughed so im sharing)

rise! Leo: Your Casey and Donnie don't like each other? Oh this is really funny.

2012! Leo: what... do you mean?

rise! Leo, snickering: well you see, in my world Donnie and Casey are kinda married...

2012! Everyone: WHAT?!

rise! Leo: yeah, so first off we're in Florida-

2012! Raph: why were you in Florida?!

rise! Leo: and we got our tails handed to us pretty bad. Raph busted his hand up, April fractured a couple ribs, Donnie had a concussion, Cassie messed up her knee, yadda yadda. So, we're on some heavy duty painkillers, and Mikey-

rise! Leo: actually I think i have the wedding on video actually. *pulls out phone*

rise! Leo: ahhh no it must be on Mikey's phone. This video was the same night though!

Video!Leo: so, tell me Don-Don, how would you rate your whole Florida experience?

Video!Donnie, who clearly is not 100% coherent: two outta ten. Do not reccomend.

Video!Leo: but you still give it a two?

Video!Donnie: the humidity and heat are pretty nice but that's the only good thing about this state.

rise! Leo: i'll just fast forward to the relevant part.

Video!Mikey: Donnie! You're the smart one-

Video!Donnie, off screen: right you are!

Video!Mikey: PLEASE tell Casey that people who go through Vegas' drive through wedding chapels are real and actual marriages!

Video!Donnie: of course Vegas weddings are real!

Video!Mikey: aha!

Video!Donnie: its every other drive thru wedding chapel who's marriages are a sham.

Video!Casey, to Mikey: aha!

Video!April: im pretty sure they're also legal-

Video!Donnie: no they arent!

Video!Casey: You heard Mikey, Purple's the smart one, so he must be right! Which makes me right!

Video!Raph: but your stance was on Vegas weddings-

Video!Leo, behind the camera: if you two are so sure about this why don't you go test it out? Theres a drive through chapel 45 minutes awayyyy

Video!Casey: no thats too far. You couldn't pay me to sit in a van with all five of you for that long.

Video!Leo: what if I paid you both $50?

Video!Donnie: done! CASSANDRA! What is your middle name I need to propose properly

See the full post

572 notes - Posted September 19, 2022

Every time i play around with a 2012 x 2018 crossover set in 2018 verse i get secondhand self conscious and dial back the affection between 2018's extended cast. But you know what? No. Let 2012 and every other verse get uncomfortable with being in a environment filled with so much undisputed love

2018 boys cuddle on the couch. One of the boys will plop their head in 18!April's lap. Casey Jr. will slide up under 18!Leo's arm and doze off while leaning into his chest. Draxum comes over for lunch every Saturday and 18!Mikey excitedly calls him "Dad" while bouncing around him the first hour he's there. 18!Splinter kisses his sons goodnight if he sees them on his way to bed, including alternate universe counterpart sons. The Hamatos are huggers and every time 18!April or Sunita or Cassandra drop by, and on the rare occasion Sr. Hueso or Big Mama deliver something, they get a big hello hug. Cassandra greets Casey Jr. with hugs and dramatic cheek kisses and Casey Jr. has the biggest smile on his face the whole time. 18!Raph's just constantly beaming affection. 18!Leo will drape himself off everyone and everything. "I love you"s are said in almost every goodbye. No one is ashamed to admit they crawl into each others' beds at night after bad dreams or scary movies, often just telling a 2012 thats looking for them to jusy come to that room that morning because theyre comfy and dont want to move. 18!April regularly wears 18!Donnie's sweatshirts and trades off with him throughout the day (she likes baggy sweatshirts, Donnie likes warm sweatshirts), even after 12!Donnie and the teasing his brothers not-so-quietly do makes it a little uncomfortable, because this is something small that makes the other happy and a couple stares is hardly a price. 18!Mikey actively does gestures of affection (ex. making someone's favorite meal, making a painting, playing with April's hair, etc). 18!Donnie will walk away from a project if someone expressly states they wanna spend time with him (videogames are a whole different story). Sitting on top of each other because the booths at Run of the Mill cant hold 12+ people (Leo's sideways in Donnie's lap with his arms around his neck, Mikey is sitting on top of the booth with April sitting in front of him between his legs and his plate balanced on her head, Cassandra is propped up on Raph's shell and Casey Jr. is on his knee, Sunita has one leg on the seat and the other in April's lap) while 2012 try to pretend they arent uncomfortable with being squished together in a row. Todd shows up being Todd and 2018 actively and enthusiastically join in his sappy friendship things. The boys using their ten thousand dad nicknames for 18!Splinter. 18!Mikey running around to get goodnight hugs and kisses

702 notes - Posted September 17, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Drew this meme for a tmnt 2012 x rottmnt crossover and now i wanna draw more

See the full post

1,593 notes - Posted September 12, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #hinacu

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m3rricat · 3 months

Text

You Do Not Have To Be Good - Ch. 6

Story summary: Four months after the defeat of the Netherbrain, Astarion finds himself stuck in the mire of his past and all the anger and despair that comes with it. While wrestling with her traveling-companion-turned-lover’s misery, Cat makes an impulsive decision that sets off their first falling-out. This post-game short story is told alongside the full in-game story of the evolving relationship between Cat (the not-a-bard) and Astarion (needs no introduction) which varies from canon. Told from both POVs.

Chapter Masterlist

Chapter 6: enrichment is important for your vampire; then, Astarion is doing just fine. He's doing so great you guys don't even know

Pairing: Astarion x female Tav

Chapter Content Warnings: none

Word Count: 3385

Read on AO3

The blood sings, and all is right with the world.

Astarion’s focus has narrowed to his prey’s scent as he follows it down the warren of back lanes of the Lower City. Ranza’s men must have bloodied Natale thoroughly because the trail is strong even now, probably nearly an hour after Natale had stumbled this way.

It leads Astarion on a merry chase. He darts from alley to alley at top speed. Lurks a breath behind a passing Flaming Fist patrol like he’s stalking them—he thinks about a cheeky pickpocketing, but relents at the last second. And as the scent leads him along a stretch of the Lower City wall, he sprints across the face of it with his newly restored spider-climbing, skimming over the rough stones as the city sprawls beneath him, half-swallowed in mist.

He does not need to cut loose like this. But he does because he can. Because it’s fun to let the monster in him out. He is strong, and fast, and hungry. He feels so wonderfully predatory. So wonderfully in control.

This sort of hunt is clean. It is right. Not the kind he did for those two centuries where he laid himself out as bait and let himself be ravaged. No more would he have to grit his teeth as a part of himself was inevitably lost. So many bits of him, scattered all over. Taken by those who had no idea what their one night together did to him. And then they too were taken.

Two centuries where Astarion gave himself out piecemeal, and the one monster who gained from it was now no doubt a rat-chewed skeleton in his own cellar. Everything Astarion suffered for, and nothing to show for it. He had screamed over it. Wept over it. Laughed himself hoarse over the magnificent joke of his un-life.

He still does not understand why his outlook changed so suddenly weeks past. For a time he had been so happy in his new freedom with Cat by his side. But now, for seemingly no reason all, it feels like everything he does to make meaning, every scrap of happiness he tries to salvage is like trying to fill a yawning abyss by the teaspoon. He hasn’t told Cat about these thoughts. Hasn’t ever wanted to imply that she was nothing to him. But it had very nearly slipped out from behind his teeth tonight.

Astarion stops at the end of an alleyway, hiding around the corner as knots of drunks spill out of a tavern across the lane, casting long shadows in the pool of light outside the doorway. His pause is less about avoiding attention and more because his brain has stopped cooperating. Not letting him be the simple beast on a hunt he desperately wants right now. No—it is determined to go around and around in the same tired rumination he has been trying to stomp out all night.

It's because his hot anger is now breaking down into its base components: irritation and shame. He is still greatly annoyed that Cat went where she did and hadn’t told him until her hand was forced. Annoyed that her babbled explanation was essentially that she did so to relieve herself of the horrors of his past. But that is where the shame rushes in. Because she is affected by it. Because she sees him trapped in it and tries to drag him out time after time. And then, she has to endure his venom, like tonight—

Astarion forces himself to move—quickly, hugging the shadows, down one street and then a side lane and then a winding alley where Natale’s blood calls to him. Because he cannot let himself follow that line of thinking any further. Cannot let himself wonder too deeply why Cat should even stay.

The last time Astarion sees the sun, it is outside the ruined temple of Selûne before the companions start their trek through the Underdark. They arrive back at the temple at nightfall and decided to camp outside one last time, to breathe in the fresh air for as long as possible before the descent.

Astarion had been worried the morning might be cloudy. It had been mostly overcast that night as he watched the sky sleeplessly. He felt foreboding. The prospect of losing the sun again for who knew how long weighed on him. And other uncertainties weighed on him almost as much.

Cat had turned away from him wordlessly the night of the party as he struggled to process what she had shown him. What his calculated reaction should be. They had said nothing to each other the next couple days through this night as the group retraced their steps to the temple.

But that was fine with Astarion. He should be thankful, really. The ordeal had been the push he needed to untangle himself from her.

He tries to empty his head of all its endless fretting and fussing and second-guessing as he watches the rising sun one last time. It peers over the ruins of the courtyard walls, burning through the mist. Molten gold. The loveliest thing Astarion has ever seen. The rays hit him where he stands to greet them, and the warmth melts into his body. He closes his eyes to feel it better. If only he could eat of it, keep a bit of it in his belly to remind him in the long dark.

There is the bustle of camp being packed up going on behind him, but that’s not what makes him turn suddenly. He feels it like a feather touch on the back of his neck.

Cat is looking at him from a distance. She’s dressed in her leathers, ready to head out, arms crossed and hands grabbing at her elbows like she’s cold in the early morning chill. The sunlight hasn’t quite reached her yet. She doesn’t turn away when their eyes meet. Her expression is soft. A bit sad. Then she shifts hers stance, and her face moves like she’s about to say something.

But she stops abruptly. Her mouth snaps shut. She bows her head and turns away.

Glancing over his shoulder, Astarion lets the sun sear his eyes one last time before turning to follow her into the dark.

The Underdark is an alien world.

There is something trying to kill them around every other corner, but it is—Astarion can’t quite find the words for it. Though they are deep underground, there is nothing oppressive or tomb-like about it. There is so much life down here—lethal, and thriving on the corpses of those less successful. It is beautiful in its constant struggle, in the strange forms both plant and animal have taken to scratch out a life in the endless dark.

Cat has thrown herself back into being the level-headed leader. She plays friend to all—which is not to say she is not genuinely friendly with some of them. Astarion sees that true crooked smile of hers come out when she is having a quick word with Shadowheart, or even Lae’zel. But a quick word is all he ever sees from her. After him, she does not seem to be seeking out anyone to confide in.

And then there is their newest companion: Halsin. Or, rather, he is their new guest. He remains at camp always, a looming presence exuding calm and wisdom that Astarion finds ever so slightly irritating. Cat has been the consummate host to him, unfailingly polite—but again, never stepping beyond that bound. However, Astarion sees how the druid looks pointedly interested in everything she has to say. Sees the way his eyes trail after her as she bustles around the camp. He can’t tell if Cat has noticed; if she has, she has given no sign. Astarion feels nothing about it. Mostly. Except for a stupid, smug little twinge in the infantile corner of his mind every time he sees her blow past Halsin’s obvious interest.

But he can allow himself to be happy about it because it shows she is not seeking to have with others what she had with him. That she is not more closely allied with anyone else. Not that it would ruin his plans if she did fuck someone else. Sex was just an activity, after all. As he ponders this, visions come unbidden to him of Cat mauling Halsin the way she had done him, dragging the massive elf down on top of her—

Astarion clenches his jaw, stalking off to find a distraction somewhere in camp.

They are camping amongst the myconids tonight—or was it today? They try to keep some sense of time, though the decision to pitch camp tends to just happen when the majority are tired enough. Most everyone is exhausted now, having just come off a fight with a massive bulette just outside the myconids’ territory. Some have already crawled off to sleep. Astarion assumes Cat has as well when he can’t find her.

And then a hissed whisper behind him: “Astarion! Come here!”

He whirls around. Cat is half-crouched like she’s trying to be stealthy (bless her, but it wasn’t one of her talents). She’s grinning wide at him. He feels himself mirroring her.

“What?”

“Just—just come up here, I want to show you—”

She scuttles back the was she had come from, up what appears to be a slag pile. She steps carefully on the loose shale, managing to not send it all tumbling down. Astarion follows, bemused.

And then they crest the top. Astarion is about to ask what exactly she’s showing him when the light from below catches his eye.

Spread out in a massive canyon under them are huge gnarled branches covered in clusters of light. It’s a tree, Astarion realizes, as his eyes adjust and he starts to see more detail. It must be a hundred yards wide, if not more. White light outlines all if its thousands of leaves, which casts a ghostly glow over all. It looks utterly ethereal. There are brighter points all along it—flowers, with eerie blue auras.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Cat says at last.

Astarion tears his eyes away and looks over. She’s illuminated from below by the soft glow, still smiling. It crinkles her eyes. His brain is in overdrive trying to puzzle out what’s going on, why she dragged him and only him up here to… look at something? What was she—

“It really is… astounding,” he says honestly, willing himself to ignore the contortions in his mind as he turns back to the sprawling, primordial-looking tree.

“I wonder what the hell it is? I’m assuming it’s deadly, somehow,” she muses.

Astarion chuckles. “A very safe assumption, down here.”

“It’s something down here, isn’t it? Not very relaxing, but—bracing.”

“Ha. Bracing like a cool breeze?” he laughs as she rolls her eyes. “No, I know what you mean. I would consider spending some extended time here, should I lose the sun along with the worm.”

“How are you doing, by the way?” Cat asks, her concerned tone a jarring end to their lighthearted back-and-forth. Astarion looks sidelong at her. He should answer her flippantly. He should brush her off. Go back to the tried and true.

“How do you mean?” he hears himself say.

“Well,” she starts, apparently realizing that there are several things she could be referring to. “I mean. Not having seen the sun in a while. And that it looks like we won’t see it for weeks yet, if Halsin’s right about these shadow-cursed lands.”

Astarion knows why she’s asking. That’s the one thing he’s sure she saw in his head. His first sunrise in 200 years. It rankles to think that he couldn’t keep that for himself; rekindles his intense discomfort at her holding so many of his cards. “I survived just fine all this time without it. I’m not so weak, you know.”

“You know I don’t think you’re weak,” she says, with slight exasperation. Then she sighs. “Sorry, just—it occurred to me.”

It occurred to him, then, that he was completely unused to having someone think of him. Kindly, at least. To remember things about him, little things he said, and not have the reason be to keep it in their back pocket to hurt him with later. Most of his siblings could be counted on for it. And Cazador always had the litany of his transgressions, from smallest to largest, close at hand to recite as justification for his endless tortures.

Astarion's instincts remain strong, despite the fact he knows that Cat is genuinely concerned. That she is not thinking at all to turn her question into a cruel joke. His mind is terminally infected to believe otherwise.

But he tries to choke it out anyway. To maintain good relations. “I’m—sorry. I do miss it. Somewhat.”

Cat nods but stays silent, watching the strange landscape below.

Astarion glances at her again, and ventures his own question. “You seemed determined not to… alert anyone else when you came and got me. You didn’t think the others would like this?”

Cat pulls a face. “Oh. maybe I will show them later, but—there’s been a lot of togetherness today.”

Astarion puzzles over her strange answer. Was he not… included in this togetherness? But then that little, infantile voice in his mind takes advantage of his confusion and blurts out: “because, I’m sure Halsin could tell you all about this spooky tree.”

Cat looks at him, lips pursed. “Yeah… he might.” She turns away again. “He also might take it the wrong way.”

Oho. “He has been rather… attentive.”

Cat grimaces fully now. She looks at Astarion. He can practically see the wheels in her head turning before she leans in conspiratorially. “Astarion. Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

He has no idea what she’s about to say. “Of course, darling,” he whispers back without hesitation.

She sighs. Leans in further. “Halsin looks so much like my grandpa.”

Astarion’s eyes widen. His mouth opens but Cat suddenly jumps in as she realizes—“Not—not my murdering grandpa! My ma’s father—he’s a very nice man. Well, he’s sort of a pirate. Sometimes. But very nice—”

“So you have a very attractive pirate grandfather. Cat, wonders never cease with you,” he crows, trying to keep his voice down, but it is thick with trying not to laugh. “Oh, Halsin will be so very disappointed.”

“No, he won’t. Because you won’t be telling him.”

“Oh, my dear. You’re going to have to let him down gently eventually. This would put an end to it. Maybe haunt him for a little while too.”

They part that night on that lighthearted note, but Astarion can feel the lingering questions between them. His eyes follow Cat until the moment she disappears in her tent. He finds himself hoping she’ll glance back, but she doesn’t. He makes himself walk away.

He tries to maintain this equilibrium of what he supposes is some kind of friendship. A couple days later, Cat sets herself up to practice violin again in her silencing sphere. Astarion invites himself to listen. Cat throws him a questioning glance, but wordlessly proceeds to play. He can’t even come up with a convincing lie to tell himself why sitting and listening to her mess around for a good hour advanced his plans for her, but he can’t bring himself to leave all the same.

There is a moment when they are all alone afterwards, walking back toward the camp, and Cat is chattering on about some fiddling technicalities that Astarion had prompted to fill the awful silence, when there is a certain intersection of events. Cat’s face is lit up, looking up at him, and she jostles against him out of necessity on the narrowing ledge. His arm snakes around her unconsciously, drawing her away from the edge of the path—and Astarion is suddenly very aware of her. Of how she settles so easily into his grip.

As Cat looks up at him through her lashes, he knows. Knows he could have her in this moment and cement her loyalties further. And he could do it clinically—he knows now his mind won’t let him engage when it comes to sex. Not fully. It will keep him safe. Remind him she is nothing more than the ones that came before.

As the path widens, Astarion's grip loosens. Cat steps away to a friendly distance without comment.

Astarion continues to tell himself that everything is going according to plan. That is, until the Grymforge.

The heat does not help things. It is horribly reminiscent of those times Astarion was exposed to daylight pre-tadpole: the heat that would be pleasant until it was rapidly not, until it was burning him to cinders. The temperature of the Grymforge is like the feeling of that heat just as it was about to turn unbearable. Astarion feels like he is going out of his mind, holding on to lucidity by his fingernails.

So when Cat decides to risk all their lives to save those gnome slaves, he is done. They had already slogged through a hard fight with most of the duergar and that Drow sorcerer. Now Cat had gone and pissed the remaining duergar off, demanding that they release their slaves. Somehow she had made enough of an impression on them that they end up conceding without another fight. But it is an extremely close thing.

Astarion rounds on Cat the moment they return camp, further back in the ruins. She, like the rest of them, looks filthy, with soot and dirt setting nicely in the sheen of sweat on her face.

“What were you thinking—risking our necks for those gnomes? I thought you had more sense!” He hisses at her.

Cat jerks around wide-eyed. It takes her a few moments to process his words, and then to find her voice. “…They were slaves, Astarion. Of course I had to try to—“

“There are thousands of slaves out there! And only a handful of us! You need to focus on the task—"

Her face scrunches in confusion. “You—you of all people are saying this? After what you went through?”

She clearly thinks it is a trump card. How very wrong she is. Even if Astarion wasn’t plagued by the continual sense that he is about to disintegrate, he would feel no less disdain. His face twists with disgust. “I’m not enslaved anymore!” he spits back. “I got out—I’m not like them. And I’ll be damned if I lose everything I’ve managed to claw back trying to free a bunch of weaklings who will only die soon enough anyway!”

Cat’s staring at him now. She seems very much at a loss as the silence stretches. Her face eventually sinks into a tired expression. “I don’t know what the fuck to tell you,” she croaks at last. “I can’t be that. I can’t not… do what I did.”

Her eyes—she looks so completely disappointed. Defeated. Astarion cannot stand it. “How dare you judge me! Gods, I hate how my pathetic life is so much in your hands—” his teeth clench so hard the pain lances through his skull.

Cat just looks at him.

“Say something, damn you! Don’t just stare at me like an idiot—”

“What the fuck should I say?!” she snaps at last, the fire back in her eyes. Astarion feels a grim spark of happiness at it. “What do you want to do about it, huh? Shove me in the fucking lava?”

Her face is magnificent. Blackened by ash, crossed by rivulets of sweat pouring down. Her golden eyes are utterly arresting in contrast, practically sparking in her rage. The rage he has goaded her towards.

And he basks in it. In her looking at him, only him, with a glare that threatens to burn him up. Swallow him whole.

He is so gods damn fucking pathetic. And for a brief glorious moment, he does not care at all.

Then, the moment is gone. His anger and self-loathing return, hitting him like nausea.

“Sadly, I still need you,” he chokes out before stalking off.

A/N: A short chapter this time-- this part wasn't even supposed to be a full chapter, but Astarion kept insisting on showing he's doing ever so good, really and truly.

FYI, next chapter will be out on Sunday instead of Saturday. Thank you very much for reading!

#astarion #bg3 #astarion fanfic #astarion x female tav #astarion x tav

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incarnateirony · 4 months

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Crowley?

If you're asking about my sarcastic "use the crowley voice if it helps", while these dumb mother fuckers were bouncing back my own warning signs at her to get her to monetize them without reading them, they picked up ITS LIKE AZIRAPHALE AND CROWLEY OKAY, ONE IS WELL SPOKEN AND BOOKSMART, ONE IS A STREET RAT, THEY TALK DIFFERENT AND "I AM GOING TO EDUCATE YOU" MEANS TWO DIFFERENT THINGS and they just. Fucking. Woosh. Yeah, wow, what a fucking NOVEL fucking concept

Then I spent time screaming at them like. ANY CROWLEY!!! EVERY CROWLEY!!! I DON'T BLOODY CARE!!! CROWLEY FROM SUPERNATURAL!! CROWLEY FROM GOOD OMENS!! ALEISTER CROWLEY FROM MY PRACTICE THAT SHE PRETENDS TO LEAD IN BUT REFUSES TO READ A SINGLE BOOK BY, I'M PRETTY SURE HE'S IN HERE YELLING AT HER TOO

If I have to put this in terms for the rookies, use an idea like Ancestral Memory. It's called a lot of things. The psychology theory is called metempsychosis. Some people say transmigration. The further it goes down the Lazy Bitches Who Won't Read line, it simplifies into reincarnation as people think about it, but it's why there's 1000000000000000 cleopatras, like, yall are remembering great great great great memaw's shit, yall went to sleep and turned left at albequerque and she has NO idea what dubstep is but can't figure out why she's hearing it. Okay? That. It's that. And she has literally managed to piss off everyone on the Soul Patch she's humping because literally generations of great magicians have tried to lead this gimp horse to water, and the horse won't dance, and if it don't dance, it aint no horse of mine. Instead, they're all cussing her out too at this point, because several tried to reason with her before this but she just kept on her horse shit.

So to simplify, she has essentially pissed off every ancestor I've ever had, because she fucked up, and thought my life plot stopped without her, because she treats people like games and roleplay and thinks she can narratively overwrite them, and it don't work like that, at least not where she's sitting sweetie. She can write her hearts dreams away, but I got 200 million up her ass writing over hers since she refuses to dismount my astral dick they're all metaphorically climbing now. Her dad is literally building penis towers, and her sister, since around when this started, and she won't onboard her information, even when she accidentally admits her own shadow is in meltdown because again, she won't read a book, and doesn't understand what she confessed, because it made her feel special. She sure got THOSE words stuck in her head when she thought it made her a goddess princess special peach, but man she tried to run from it like a dropped plotline once I dropped what it meant and why. She had NO CLUE I went through a massive state change a year ago and just thought she could keep fucking on fucking on with her crazy addiction, and she has LITERALLY been on my dick ever since. But because I was already close to it, she smelled the fucking. hermeneutic soul patch and couldn't resist shoving her nose up my ass everywhere and even training her fiance to lick it.

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crossedtheline · 2 years

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Ember carefully balanced the small basket in his lap as he made his way through the hallways, looking for his friend. When he saw Jinx, he took a deep breath and then quickly headed over to the man.

“Happy birthday Jinx!” He said, “Got you something.” He held up the basket, filled with several somethings.

Inside the black basket, Ember had picked out a few different gifts for his dear friend. There was a patch with the Pomefiore dorm crest stitched on, some bags of his favorite candy that Ember had to bribe a student to buy, and nestled into the middle of this all was a diaphonized rat specimen in a decorative jar.

His birthday had always been a quiet affair, overshadowed by all the praise people had for his brother. That was the problem with twins in his opinion, you were essentially born alongside a lifelong competitor. Coming to Night Raven was a welcome reprieve, but nonetheless he continued to be surprised when people celebrated him. As if his classmates knew he was a shadow separated from its host, missing his brother’s presence like a phantom limb and simultaneously relieved that he was gone.

All that is to say, Ember caught him off guard. Once by remembering it was his birthday, and then by gifting him a gift basket. It seemed a little too extravagant for his taste.

“Em, come on, you didn’t have to get me anything,” he said and picked up the taxidermy, “This was expensive. I know it was expensive. You shouldn’t have.”

It was overwhelming to feel like somebody was thinking of him even when he wasn’t around. Unfamiliar. He certainly hadn’t been this close with anyone his first year at school.

“Thank you, I suppose. Next year I’ll get you something really nice too. Promise.”

#answered #ember parca #birthday boy #not pictured: him proudly displaying the diaphonized rat to every other pomefiore student’s dismay

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imaybeabear · 2 years

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Ok so I just watched Encanto today and I am iN LOVE WITH THIS MOVIE OH MY GOD

I have so so many thoughts but the one that will just will not leave me alone is the difference between Bruno's rooms.

Ok, so his "power room" is cold looking and barren, and even though all the rooms presumably are bigger on the inside, any place for him to sleep and live are all deep in the room up a ridiculous amount of stairs and behind a literal barrier (the sand curtain) so anyone who wants to visit has to really want to get to him. The rock is rough, the light harsh, creating areas that feel almost too illuminated and deep, sharp shadows. Additionally, there's next to no decoration and most of what there is seems to be related to his powers. Nothing in there feels truly alive with no color; no plants, no rugs, no art, just sand. Maybe he had more stuff that he took with him into the walls, but the distance and the bare, cold starkness of the rock is still there:

In contrast, the room that he built for himself is so much softer and, though it's small and a bit claustrophobic, it is full of color and knickknacks and the rats and books. He has dishes that a brightly patterned and his bright red chair and the little structures he built for the rats. It's cluttered and warm and a bit messy and full of personality and, most importantly, though it is separated from the rest of the house by walls, it is, essentially, right in the middle of the house. It is right near the kitchen which many people consider the heart of the home and literally beside the dining room where the whole family (save him) go to gather together.

(Sorry I couldn't find more pictures:/)

Anyway, I just think it is so important, the difference between the room that was assigned to him and the one he built- between the life he was pushed into and then out of and the existence, while not ideal, that he managed to create for himself.

There's also something to be said about both him and Mirabel having smaller rooms that they had to decorate/put together themselves as opposed to the prepackaged rooms that everyone else was assigned, and the importance of personal choice and taste when it comes to living spaces and I am also deeply emotional about that, but it is so late here and I have to sleep now

#i am going to lose my mind!!#this movie is just so very ~emotions~#encanto #bruno #bruno madrigal

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sylverstorms · 3 years

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Miranda x Mia---- Eternal

A Ko-Fi commission I wrote for the wonderful @saltwatereulogies. Thank you so very much for the support and I hope you enjoy the fic!

Drip. Splatter.

The first sound you’re aware of is that of the occasional waterdrop crashing onto the same humid, uneven floor you’re lying on.

The second is the sound of her voice.

“Rise and shine.” she says, somewhere off to the side. You are still too disoriented to pinpoint exactly where.

You’re not dizzy enough, though, to not immediately realize you’re trapped. The way the light behind your captor shines makes it all the more obvious, casting large shadows in the shape of your prison bars across your small, moldy cell.

“Y-you…” you struggle to talk. Your throat is too dry and your temples pound like a war drum. It feels like you’ve collided with a truck. And yet her voice commanding you to sleep is the last thing you remember.

“I haven’t formally introduced myself. Though I’m sure your friend has told you about me.”

You blink to make your vision focus yet it’s hopeless. She is but a dark blur to you –am I hallucinating or are those wings?

“My name is Miranda.”

Suddenly, that name snaps everything into focus so sharply you could get whiplash. You’re on your knees the next second, just about ready to leap at her. She’s the one. The one Chris warned you about. She may look like an angel but she is a devil.

“I don’t care who the hell you are! What do you want from me?!” you demand.

“Your cooperation in my experiments, for starters.” she says it calmly, but she is no fool to believe you’ll just agree to that, you can see it in her crystal-blue eyes.

“Ha! As if!” you retort.

“Well. That answer will change when I have Rose.” The name of your daughter makes every nerve ending in your body kick at once.

“What. Like Ethan will just hand her over to the likes of you?”

“Actually.”

A slow smirk crosses her full lips. Then their shape changes to match yours. All of her does, until you are left looking at a perfect mirror of yourself. Only, there’s no way you look quite that good inside of this shitty cell.

“He’ll hand her over to you.”

When she laughs, it is your own voice haunting your ears.

She has your daughter. She has your everything in her hands. So, she has your cooperation, as well.

Miranda doesn’t really talk when she comes to collect blood samples for whatever experiments she needs them. Your initial cries and questions were muted the second she told you the more helpful and less annoying you are, the more inclined she’ll feel to bring Rose to you for a while.

In the end, you do let yourself be her docile little lab rat.

Until you literally can’t take the silence anymore.

“Was it really… that easy?” ‘To enter my home and take my daughter’ you want to add but you can’t even get the words past your throat.

She seems to understand, though. “Effortless.” she isn’t being cocky as she says it. In fact, she seems almost surprised herself. At least, from the angle you get of her face, while she’s studying a strange rock-like substance under a microscope.

“How the hell did Ethan not figure out you aren’t me?!” That moron. He just gave your daughter to her. That clueless moron!

For a split second, you see her lip twitch in what could, perhaps, be a withheld smile. “I was there for a day, so. Seems like your husband doesn’t know you quite that well.”

Is it really fair to blame him for not knowing you, though? With the secrets you’ve kept from him? The distance? The trauma from the shared nightmare you experienced coming back to you every time you even looked at him?

God, Rose really is the only thing that kept you together, isn’t she…

It’s easy to hate the accursedly beautiful bitch outside your cell. It’s easy to blame Ethan for not even suspecting something was amiss with you for a whole damn day.

It is not so easy to blame yourself as much as you do them.

Miranda replies when you ask her things, so you ask her about herself. To your surprise, she does not shroud her motives from you.

She has lost her daughter, she tells you, and the only way to get her back is through yours. For the first time since you met her, you see emotion clearly expressed in her eyes and voice. You recognize how she longs to be with her child again.

You can understand the never-ending grief of a mother losing her offspring. You know if anything happened to Rose you would rather fling yourself off a cliff than live a life without her.

And apparently, that is what she tried to do, too. She tried to die –and discovered life instead. That is what she calls it, anyway. All you can hear as she explains is that she found –and founded— the Mold. The same one that ruined your husband and you.

One more reason to hate the psycho witch.

And yet.

When you try to reach for the rage you previously held for her, you find that it’s gone. You’re bitter, you’re exhausted, you want to cry and above everything you want to see Rose again. But you don’t loathe her as you should.

“What do you mean… the only way to get Eva back is through Rose?” you dare ask after several minutes of silence.

She turns to look at you, eyes as piercing as they are blue. “Technically, the trade is simple.” Maybe you’re losing it from the stress and lack of sleep, but you think she almost hesitates for a second. “…a life for a life.”

As soon as she speaks and the meaning of her words registers in your mind, you’re gripping at the rusty iron bars with all your might, rattling them, shouting profanities at her. You are back to hating her all over again. It’s much simpler this way.

Until… she walks over and grabs your hand over the metal. Her touch is oddly warm for such a glacial heart. You cannot tell what she does to you, but it feels like an aura flowing through your system that silences you. Calms you. You do not want to be calm.

“I wasn’t finished.” she speaks. “That is where the experiments with you come in. By running tests on your blood and Rose’s and using my DNA as a medium, during the ritual I can trick the Megamycete into giving me what I want through a form of mitosis. Essentially, cell duplication that will not override the existing vessel.”

To be honest… you lost her midway through the very first sentence. You were quite good with biology back in the day but right now, in the state you’re in, science is going right over your head.

“...Is there an English version of that.” you ask.

Her mouth curves into that almost-smile again. It would be quite gorgeous, actually, if she hadn’t kidnapped you, infiltrated your home as you and abducted your daughter.

“If the tests succeed, you get your daughter back, I get mine from cloned DNA and Mold cells.” There’s a hint of pride in her voice as she says it.

And now, assuming she’s telling the truth, you want those tests to succeed more than you want to get out of here. Her hand leaves yours and the weird calm she blasted into you dissipates with it.

“Wait. So…” Realization strikes you like a thunderclap. “So these tests are for me?”

“You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t say thank you, you crazy b—blonde.” You rattle the iron bars again, a tad weaker than before. She does smirk over the microscope, this time. “How likely are the tests to succeed?” you ask impatiently.

“Quite.” she replies, flat once again.

“…And if they don’t?” you hate how your voice shakes there, at the end.

She looks at you, dead in the eyes, as she answers: “I am getting my daughter back either way, Mia.”

You can’t believe it. You cannot believe you’re thinking this, but you hope the crazy bitch knows what she’s doing.

Miranda is… despicable, but she is a woman of her word.

She brings you Rose for hours at a time and in exchange you help her outside of your cell. You thought your daughter would be in a worse condition, considering who keeps her, yet she’s healthy as ever, well-fed and clean. The worst part is, she laughs every time Miranda comes close and she even reaches out for her.

“No, my darling, don’t do that.” you tell her, tucking her tighter in your arms, before the woman behind you notices what’s happening.

Except it’s too late. “Ah, I see.” Miranda speaks, coming up to you from behind. She’s tall enough to lean over your shoulder and wave at Rose, who moves both hands towards her. “A lady of taste.” the woman praises and the lightness to her voice almost makes her sound like someone else. Someone normal.

“Stop it.” You turn your child away from her. “She’s just confused because you’re lit up like a Christmas tree.” You motion with your chin at her getup.

Miranda chuckles. “What. She senses our bond. Rose feels safe with me.”

Safe with the monster who wants to sacrifice her to get her own child back. You cannot swallow that thought down. “But she’s not, is she?!” you snap.

“She is.” Miranda reverts to her cool facade, glancing down at your daughter. “I will never let anything hurt her. And when she gives me Eva back, I will make sure she grows up bathed in luxury.”

It’s the Mold, you’re sure of it.

It’s the Mold’s fault that you believe her.

You were supposed to see Rose today. Instead, Miranda comes into the cave alone, looking irritated. You start to worry. Nothing phases her without a good reason. What if—

“Where’s my daughter?!” you demand, eyes wide.

“We have a problem.” she tells you. Your blood goes cold in your veins. “A problem named Ethan Winters.”

“Ethan?” you gasp.

“He is trying to get Rose back and according to reports from the Lords under me, he cannot be killed. His hand got cut off and he just reattached it. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” she’s certain that you know. You can see it in her steely eyes.

“I— why would I—”

“Before you think to lie to me, hear something else. I bear good news, as well.” Miranda says. “I have succeeded in my experiments. During the ritual, I can guarantee Rose will remain unharmed and unchanged.” the edge of her lip curls up as she delivers the news. You almost cry from the sheer relief.

You almost leap forward and hug her, yet you remember who she is and that she caused this mess in the first place.

“But my conditions have changed.” her voice is a sword that cuts off your happiness just like that. You knew it was too good to be true. “For me to save Rose, you will tell me how to permanently get rid of Ethan Winters.”

…What?

She wants you to… trade your daughter for your husband? How the hell can I do that?!

“He has ruined too much for me to let him walk away happily now.” Her jaw is tight enough to sprout new lines on her flawless face. She wants him dead and she always gets what she wants. “He has killed colleagues of mine. Spat in the face of a damn-near god. I will have his head.”

The corners of your eyes sting with welling tears. Your body is far more honest than you in making a decision. Nobody is too important to sacrifice when it comes to your daughter. Not yourself. Not Ethan. And Miranda knows this better than anybody else. You loathe how she knows.

“Give him to me, Mia. And in a few days this whole thing will be over.” she continues in a significantly softer tone, getting closer to you. Her wings shift, the very edge of black feathers brushing your arms.

“You want me to aid in killing the father of my child?!” you sob, grabbing at her clothes. You’d expect her to shove you away, but she doesn’t move. She doesn’t even blink.

“You have been so cooperative and so brave.” she soothes, gold-taloned fingers coming underneath your chin. “Make one last sacrifice for me. Help me murder Ethan so Rose can live. Help me and I vow to be her eternal guardian angel. Hers and yours.”

She could just force the answer out of you. She’s touching you and you know she has that power. But she doesn’t do it and it’s far worse this way. She wants it to be your choice.

You look away from Miranda’s icy eyes and her promises of everything.

And you tell her.

You do not ask about Ethan. All that’s in your mind is the ceremony.

For the entire morning, you cannot breathe. You trace notes in her lab and pace around until you literally feel like you’ll explode—

And then Miranda comes in. She is radiant, smiling from ear to ear, glowing with pure joy. She looks every part the goddess she pretends to be. The golden circle usually adorning her back is gone, her long blonde hair is left free to flow like fine strands of silk past her square shoulders.

“It is done!” she tells you, a hand extended for you to take. “Come. I’ll take you to Rose and you will be the first to meet Eva.”

Her hand is warm when it closes around yours. Black wings shroud you both. There is a gravitational pull around you that’s so intense you shut your eyes and grab onto her biceps for dear life.

“You can look, now.” she speaks once the world is stable again. Your gut is churning, yet every bit of exhaustion and discomfort vanish the second you see Rose. She is safe within the first of the two golden cribs in front of you, bathed by the soft sunlight that disperses across the luxurious, dark-tiled chamber you’re in.

You run towards her, lifting your daughter in your arms and kissing her forehead over and over. She laughs at you, blue eyes crinkled. My love. My everything, you think. Everything was worth it for this moment. And you would do it all again, to ensure her safety.

Miranda’s steps, regal and authoritative, come to a stop near the other crib. You lean closer, take a look… to see another little angel there, sleeping peacefully. She resembles Rose, yet she resembles Miranda, too.

“Oh my God.” you breathe. “You really did it.”

“I did it and you and Rose made it possible, Mia.” she says. Your child extends a tiny hand towards her. She removes one of her claws and lets her finger be taken in your baby’s grip. “You don’t have to leave. She loves me already.” A proud smile curves her lips.

You hate how it looks like a sunrise.

You hate it even more that you understand why Rose is so charmed.

“Her mom can grow to love me, too.” Crystal eyes look into your own. “There is no place safer than by my side. Stay and we will raise them together. You won’t have to fear disease or death with me. You and Rose will have every little thing you could ever want. Forever.”

You don’t want your child to be co-patented by this selfish megalomaniac, who is the killer of her father. But. Then you stop to consider what you have been through until now. Nightmare after nightmare; this vicious cycle does not look like it will be broken. One thing or another will haunt you and hunt you wherever you go. You don’t want that life for Rose.

You won’t accept that life for Rose.

“…we will stay. But you can forget that part about me growing any fonder of you than I am now.”

Miranda nods, but something in her expression is so damn cocky you want to smack her. “Oh, what’s that, Rose? You can tell your mother is lying, too? My genius girl.”

Your jaw drops. She is my genius girl!

Miranda then touches your chin and tilts it up. You don’t want to be any closer to the gorgeous fucking witch, but when she stops there, hovering just over your mouth for a skipped heartbeat, looking down at you with those crystalline eyes of hers, you’re paralyzed.

Her lips slide over your own for just one slick, hot second. When she pulls back, she caresses Rose’s cheek and winks at you.

“I hate you.” you say, yet it holds no real bite. God, you’re exhausted.

“That’s alright. We have all the time in the world to change that.”

#resident evil village #resident evil 8 #mother miranda #mia winters #mother miranda x mia #fanfiction #rosemary winters #rose winters #ethan winters #comission #writing #Where Miranda wins and takes everything and more #hail winged hottie goddess

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kinglivv · 3 years

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The Governor

Whittaker!Master x Reader

Summary: You've been a Stormcage prisoner for years now, and frankly you're sick of it and bored out of your mind. Then one night, a woman appears by your cell and you spot an opportunity for escape.

Warnings: Violence, language

A/N: I'm back! Had this idea sitting in my drafts and I've missed writing so I forced myself to finish it of. Hope some of you get the Wentworth references!

The first time she visits you, you've no idea who she is.

Initially, you think it's one of the prison guards. They're known for stalking the cells at night, searching for prisoners with contraband or kicking up a fuss in their cells. Therefore, the click, click, click of expensive shoes doesn't strike you as unusual until a figure dressed in purple comes into view.

You jump up from your bed - if the cardboard mattress even qualifies as that - and throw yourself at the iron bars of your cell, curious.

"Who are you?" You ask quietly, trusting that the rest of the women in your block are asleep and won't overhear your whispers.

The figure says nothing, but she steps out of the shadows into the dim light and finally you get a look at her face.

Soft hair and sparkling eyes lead down to an evil grin and calloused hands clutching lapels. Instantly, you're fascinated. Who is this woman?

"You're not a guard." You realise.

"No, love." She chuckles, her accent English.

"So who are you? One of the Judoon's people?"

She laughs softly, a nice sound although when you listen carefully, there's something unsettlingly unhinged about it.

"I'm very much above working for the Judoon." She scoffs. "I'm not meant to be here."

Your frown.

"So you broke in?"

Why would one break into a prison? Usually the objective is to break out.

"Sort of."

"No one gets in or out of Stormcage." You point out.

"Well I do."

"The last person who tried to escape got shrank and the burned alive by the Governor." You don't know if that's strictly true - no prisoner had ever seen let alone met the Governor, but rumours about him were rampant.

"He won't be bothered, trust me."

Your eyes widen.

"But if you broke in, then you must know a way - hey! Hey!"

She's slinked of into the darkness and out of sight.

---

You almost convince yourself you imagined the woman, until she appears again.

This time, you wake up in the early hours to find her leaning against the bars to your cell.

"You're back." You sit up blearly.

"Evidently."

"Were you watching me sleep?"

"You really want to know?"

You smirk and swing your legs out of the bed, standing up to greet the woman.

"So," You say, walking over and folding your arms, leaning against the bars just as she does on the otherside.

"So?"

"You helping me break out of here or what?"

"Since when was I helping you break out?"

"Well you came back for something." You raise an eyebrow.

"Didn't say it was that," She gives you a very obvious once over and you fight the urge to grin. It had been a long time since anyone had flirted with you - anyone who wasn't a prison guard or an inmate off their face.

"It's boring in here." You moan. "I've got friends on the outside who need me."

"Last time I checked, your friends were mass murderers."

"So you've read my file!" You tease, smirking because this is the most stimulating conversation you've had since you began your sentence.

"You interest me."

You raise an eyebrow.

"I'm not a lab rat. I'm a human being," You remind her, turning away and wandering over to the other end of your cell to gaze out the window at the meteors passing by. "Besides, most of my friends aren't mass murderers. The Doctor for one is very well behaved, which can be terribly boring..."

You look back around, and she's gone.

You sigh.

---

The third time, it's during a riot.

You're essentially running for your life, a home-made blade in one hand and blood running down the other as you race as fast as you can, desperately trying to make it back to your block.

"Fuck!" You practically run into her as you skid around a corner, almost shoving the shiv into her chest. "What the fuck?"

"Watch it!" She hisses, "you almost took out my left heart!"

You glance behind you to make sure no one was in the hall other than you two. You can hear distant shouting and clattering of tables being thrown, more fights breaking out.

"What are you doing here?" You jab the knife in her direction as if to make a point.

"Heard there was a riot. Thought I'd join the fun!"

"You're an idiot," You growl, and why should you care? Why do you care? You barely know this mysterious woman. "If the prisoner's find you, you're dead."

She ignores you. Instead her gaze is on your arm.

"You're bleeding." She points out.

You look down at yourself and that's when you finally, properly acknowledge the blood dripping down your arm, staining your prison issued tank top and creating a small puddle on the floor.

"One of the women must have nicked me." You sigh, as if the cut on your bicep is nothing. Now she's pointed it out to you, you are beginning to notice the stinging.

"Here, let me -"

"Get off," you glare, "I don't need your help."

She's clearly about‌ to argue with you, but then the thud thud thudding of footsteps in the distance sounds, and you lock eyes.

"Quick." You tuck the shiv into your waistband of your trousers and grab her hand with your good one, tugging her towards a flight stairs, ducking underneath them.

You stay silent, breath held in the dark space and she's just as still next to you. The footsteps come and go, and you finally relax, allowing yourself to groan at the pain in your arm, leaning on her slightly.

"Seriously," the woman breaks the silence, "I can help with that."

---

She had helped - she'd patched you up with a weird device which looked like a screwdriver and then helped you back to your cell, safe and sound when the guards came searching for you. There was no evidence to say you were ever a part of the riot.

You're ready the third time she comes.

It's a little past 4 when you hear the footsteps, and you're out of your cell in seconds. She stands stunned in the hallway.

"Knew you'd be here." You grin truimphantly. "I even recognise the sound of your footsteps now."

"How'd you get out?" She asks neutrally.

"Did a favour for a guard," you shrug.

"A favour?"

"A favour. If you're nice enough to some of them, they leave your cell unlocked and slip you some cash," you smirk.

"Kindly don't go into detail about whatever favour you did for him." She sniffs distastefully.

"Who said it was a he?" you quip back, and she opens her mouth to reply but you hold up a wad of cash.

"What's that?"

"A deposit."

"For what?"

You step forward, taking her hand in yours and pressing the roll into it. Her skin is surprisingly soft and cool beneath your fingers. You drop it and reply, "for you to break me out."

She holds up the money, flicking through it.

"50,000 euros from the year 3045 bc." She comments. "I would have preferred Credits. Or Paypal."

"It's the best I can do in here." You shrug. "So you gonna get me out of here or what?"

"I'll see what I can do."

She walks away briskly, and it occurs to you that you might have just given your life savings away to a psychopath.

---

"What's in this? Cardboard?"

You dump the mashed potato in the bin and hand your emptied tray to the prisoner working the kitchen. Bea - you think her name is - a half cyborg with dark red hair. She takes the tray from you with a dirty look and you leave the cafeteria, ready to report to the showers. You hadn't seen the curious woman in weeks and the itchy, hot anticipation you'd been feeling had soon disapated into a dark disappointment, resigning yourself to the fact that she had just taken your money and done a runner.

The corridors are busy, identical people in matching blue uniform all pushing past each other and going in different directions. You begin to navigate your way around the corners and bends.

And then there's a flash of purple.

You begin to walk faster, heart in your mouth, dashing after the woman. Some of the women are shouting at you in annoyance, but you barely hear them, pushing past until you reach the doors to the stairwell under which you'd hidden with her during the riot. You shove yourself through them and then you're in the dark.

"You ready to go?" Comes that voice and out she steps from the shadows.

"Go where?" You ask breathlessly.

"You wanted me to break you out baby. Then you can go where ever you want."

"How the fuck do we do that in the middle of lunch hour when all the women are out their cells?" You demand - this woman might ne slightly terrifying and little intimidating, but a three year prison sentence had toughened you up considerably.

"Like this." She replies, and takes your hand.

You let her lead you down dim stairs and along black corridors and round dark corners. You quickly get the impression that speaking would just annoy her, so you keep your mouth shut and follow her lead. However, it doesn't stop you from wondering how her taking you through a maze of hallways is "escaping".

Somehow, she's got one of the guards keycards and you watch on curiously as she glides you through all the locked doors without an ounce of care. You're beginning to relax a little.

And then she grabs you roughly by the collar and crowds you into a corner, pressing you against the wall.

"Shit!" Your back hits the wall and the woman grins, teeth gleaming in the dark.

"Such bad language. Prison's rubbed off on you," she coos.

"Where are you taking me?" you hiss, "I paid good money and so far we're not getting anywhere."

"Of course we are, dear."

"Oh yeah? I fail to see how."

"This is how."

Her body is inches from yours now, and whatever the tension is between you both is only amplified by her proximity and the darkness. You watch, swallowing your words as she reaches down into the pocket of her waistcoat and pulls out... a gun.

You're frozen still as she grips the handle and presses the end of the cool metal barrel to your prison issue tank top.

"You're gonna kill me?" You ask, sounding calmer than you felt.

"Escaping. Death. They're the same thing, really."

"Not really."

"You ever wonder if there's an afterlife?" She asks nonchalantly, as if this is a good time to get philosophical. "I've died a few times but I can't say I've ever made it to heaven."

"I haven't got you down as an angelic type," you reply, painfully aware of the cool metal pressing into your abdomen, "no offense."

"None taken," she grins and then in a flash, pulls the gun away and points behind her, shooting a Judoon square in the nose.

She steps back and you're left struggling to catch your breath.

"Where did he come from?" You gasp, staring at the now dead rhino. That must be some gun if it managed to kill one of those.

"Doesn't matter darling," she sing songs and grabs your hand again, "come on!"

"But the Judoon - they'll know. They'll find him, and then the Governor will know and he'll come and find us."

"Oh, Y/N, the Governor's not a him!"

"What?"

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" She snaps. "I am the Governor."

Then your being yanked down corridors again, reeling from her revelation and unable to respond in any way. You've lost all sense of direction and you're now seemingly incapable of doing anything except following her. Your mind was still whizzing, trying to make sense of this woman who had just pointed a gun at you without a care in the world, shot a Judoon dead, and declared she owned Stormcage.

"Here we are." She announces, approaching a large metal door. She presses a near invisible button and you watch as a screen appears, scanning her fingerprint, face, and then she leans over and it scans her eye. You gaze at her, shaking slightly.

The doors crack open and she leads you into an office.

"What is this?" You demand. You had been promised an escape, not a large office with paintings and cupboards and desks. Unmistakebly the office of a Governor.

"Be a dear and shut up," she retorts, and sits down at the desk before putting her feet up and lighting a cigarette.

"No," you reply angrily, marching over. "You tricked me!"

You lean on the desk opposite her, and triumphantly pull out a the shiv from the waistband of your trousers. You'd been hiding it there for days on end, and you thought you'd got one up on her but instead she just looks on, unimpressed.

"What is that?" She asks, sifting through some paperwork. "Your old toothbrush?"

"Works a charm. You should have seen what I did to some of the girls with it in the riot." You threaten. "I'd get Top Dog in here if I kill the Governor and the other girls find out."

"Oh please, that wouldn't even make a dent in me."

"You're just flesh and blood."

To your surprise, she snorts. Then through her head back and lets out a proper belly laugh and you lean back, confused. Did she realise you could kill her with this?

"Oh darling," She laughs, "Let me show you something."

She stands up and walks over to the filing cabinet.

"You promised me an escape," you complain as you watch her, "or at least a plan!"

Then the filing cabinet swings open.

"Darling," she tells you, not a note of humour left in her voice, "this is the plan."

And then she steps inside.

Heart pounding, you race after her, throwing yourself through the doors without a second thought because surely this couldn't be...

"A TARDIS?" You freeze as you stare at the console room laid out before you. It's like the Doctor's but darker, much more mysterious. "You're a Timelord?" You squeak.

"And it only took you months to figure it out." She quips back.

"Why... why?" You settle on.

"I told you," she says, stroking her hand over the console, "you interest me."

"Why?"

"You were the Doctor's play thing, weren't you?" She says matter of factly, because she knows the answer's yes. "Until you went rogue. Killed off a whole civilisation to save his life and he happily handed you over to the Judoon in return. I've read your file."

You say nothing.

"Don't you want revenge?"

Silence.

"You do, don't you? The friend you loved so dearly, betraying you after you sacrificed so many innocent lives in the name of his. Tell me you don't want blood."

She steps closer.

"I do," you reply finally.

"I knew you had it in you." She whispers, a fond smile on her face. Her hands come to rest on your waist. "We're going to be brilliant together."

"I don't even know your name," you respond dumbly, eyes unable to looks away from her hazel ones.

"Oh, Y/N," She says sweetly. "You can call me the Master."

Taglist: @truthbehindthemysteries @queerconfusionthings @xenteaart @actuallyanita @ateliefloresdaprimavera @persephonehemingway @fabulous-jj-style @anteroom-of-death @thewinterpoet

#doctor who #13th doctor #series 12 #the master #13th doctor x you #13th doctor x reader #13 x reader #jodie whittaker x reader #whittaker!master x reader #whittaker!master #the master x reader #roleswap au #jodie whittaker imagine #self insert #gender neutral reader

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morrigan-sims · 2 years

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What are your hottest of hot takes on some of the booktok/trending books rn?

okay, I'm going to be honest and say I didn't even know what's trending on booktok right now. I had to google.

A Court of Thornes and Roses

Bleh. I read this book, and did NOT like it. Throne of Glass was decent enough, but ACOTAR is... not good. The relationships all give me bad vibes, or are just straight up toxic, and there's more sm/ut than I'm comfortable with. Also, the ending of the second book (which was where I stopped because agian, not a fan), is almost the exact same ending that Ms. Maas used for the end of Empire of Storms (book 5 in throne of glass). It's one thing for there to be tropes, but to essentially plagiarize yourself is an interesting thing to do.

What is it with booktok and faeries?? Is there something you people find romantic about being held against your will by a supernatural creature 10x your age??? DOES NO ONE ELSE FIND THAT CREEPY??? (ALSO Faerie myths rarely end well for the humans, and they never have good intentions. Not to mention that a very common faerie myth (changelings) is very, very ableist.)

2. Red Queen

it was.... meh. Things got dragged out 10x more than they needed to, and why can't you just kill these people who are evil and be done with it?? Also, neither of the love interest options are very good people to the main character. There's so much back and forth and backstabbing that you have no idea who's on what side, which while can sometimes turn out okay, the number of times the reader's opinion about X or Y character flip flops is just rediculous. (And again, just kill the douchebag and be done with it!!)

3. The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue.

This one... this one is something else. While I love the concept, in theory, I was NOT a fan of the execution. It's not nearly as good as everyone makes it out to be, and if you want to see V.E. Schwab's better writing, read the Villains series. The concept is nice, but the plot and characters leave a bit to be desired, imo.

Bonus (but tw for implied grooming and very unhealthy relationships) under the cut.

BONUS: Shadow and Bone (kind of)

While I absolutely ADORE Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom, and also loved King of Scars/Rule of Wolves, I was initially uncertain if I wanted to even read Six of Crows after reading the original trilogy. I read both *years* ago, before BookTok latched on, and I discovered that I cared 20x more about the side characters (Nikolai, Tamar, Genya, etc.) than I did about Alina and Mal. I never really cared about them or what happened to them, but I was deeply invested in the side characters stories. Hence why I'm so happy that Ms. Bardugo decided to explore them in KoS/RoW. But that's not my issue with S&B. My issue with S&B is actually a fanbase issue, not a plot issue. THE DARKALINA CREEPS. Who is their right mind thinks that the Darkling gave one rat's ass about Alina??? Who in their right mind could ship them together. Yes, you're supposed to see the Darkling as more than just an evil monolith, and that's valid. But how anyone can read those books (ESPECIALLY the tent scene near the end of book 1) and not be absolutley REPULSED by the Darkling, baffles me. Yes, you're supposed to feel emotions about him, even mourn his death, (or in my case, the death of the person he coudl have been, the person his mother wanted him to be), but dear god, he's a creep. He's also about 600 years old, and you're shipping him with a teenager. What the hell is wrong with you??? The reader is supposed to follow an arc with him, from being wary to admiring him to hating him, and maybe ending on pity. But SO many people get stuck on admiring, and it revolts me. I'm not going to lie, someone liking the Darkling or shipping Darkalina is a MASSIVE red flag, because of how blatantly abusive and manipulative the Darkling is. He's not even subtle about it, after the first 2/3 of the 1st book.

Okay, that's all. I'm so sorry for screaming at you.

#ask Morrigan #thanks for the ask!#ask #anon #anonymous #morri loves books #morri rambles #nonsims #I'm so sorry if there's any typos or weird shit in here #I cannot for the life of me be bothered to proofread this rn #if anyone wants my reccomendations for books that are Actually Good lmk #I have a list of criminally underrated books <3 #also #NONE OF THESE BOOKS ARE NEW #they're all been out for 5+ years at this point and are only now getting attention because of booktok

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the-ferocious-kittyrose · 3 years

Text

Rewriting Haggar/Honerva’s redemption arc

One of the many things that bothered me about VLD S8 is Honerva’s redemption arc. While I was never fully against the idea of Honerva getting a redemption arc, I just didn’t want VLD to do it because I knew that they would fuck it up if they tried. And low and behold, I was right!

But yeah, I wasn’t against the idea of her being redeemed. And I don’t mean “redeemed” as in “all is forgiven and she’s just a good guy now,” but more like a Darth Vader, “the things she did were inexcusable and she would never be able to right all her wrongs but she goes out on one good act to show that there was still good in her deep down and she at least had the potential to change.”

I know a lot of people don’t like the whole, “redemption=death” thing, which I understand, but I personally never had a problem with it.

Ok, so why didn’t Honerva’s redemption work? Well there are a few reasons but the one that baffles me the most is that, instead of trying to make her more sympathetic, season 8 seemed to go out of its way to show her being more evil and vile than ever.

And because I have nothing better to do, I’m gonna go through Honerva’s story in VLD and explain what I would change to make her redemption more believable.

(Keep in mind I am not a writer, this is just me ranting about my favorite character and how I personally would’ve written her.)

1. Realizing she’s Altean

I always thought it’s was weird that when Allura said “you’re...Altean!?” In the S2 finale, Haggar didn’t seem to react at all, she just kept attacking. It’s as if she didn’t care or already knew, which doesn’t make sense considering in the S3 finale and S8E2 it’s established that Haggar has no memory of who she was before she died. And in S4E3 she seems shocked by her Altean face (which also doesn’t make sense because her blue skin isn’t camouflage that’s just how she looks after the rift) so it seems like she didn’t know.

Wouldn’t it have made more sence if after Allura said “you’re...Altean!?” Honerva looked confused/shocked? If she became defensive and said Allura was lying/trying to insult her? There’s def anti-Altean propaganda in the empire so it would be considered an insult.

After that she starts questioning Zarkon. And when she looks into his mind, it’s out of genuine curiosity and desire to know the truth, not because, “the empire needs him” or whatever that meant.

And isn’t it a bit odd that she doesn’t seem betrayed at all when she finds out Zarkon has been keeping all this from her? She’s just like, “oh, you’re my husband? Cool.” Wtf???

2. Her past relationship with Zarkon

Okay, I love Zonerva, but if we’re being honest, Zarkon was not the best husband. He enabled the shit out of Honerva, even when it was obvious that the rift was doing serious damage to her physical and mental health. To me, it seems like Zarkon was so blinded by the power the rift gave him that he didn’t realize/ignored the negative effect it was having on Honerva. In the same way he downplayed the negative impact the rift had on the planet.

I think that should’ve been explored more. Maybe Honerva notices that she’s been acting differently and is worried somethings wrong (think S5 Kuron). And Honerva tries to tell Zarkon that she feels strange and Zarkon just brushes it off.

And later, when Alfor visits Diaibazaal years later. Things are pretty much the same except when we sees Honerva, she is very obviously pregnant and Alfor’s there when Honerva falls and goes into labor (instead of a random quintessence seizure). Alfor and many Galran doctors try their best to save her and the baby but she dies in childbirth.

Zarkon goes ballistic. He’s yelling, throwing doctors across the room, and Alfor turns to the doctor holding Lotor and tells them to get the baby to safely, fearing Zarkon will take his grief out on the baby.

Zarkon turns on Alfor, blaming him for Honerva’s death and accusing him of letting her die so that he could get his way and close the rift. He lunges Alfor and roars at him to leave.

He spends the rest of the night grieving at Honerva’s bedside, when Kova jumps on the bed and starts gnawing on her finger trying to wake her up. This is what gives him the idea to bring her back with quintessence.

3. Her current relationship with Zarkon

I think it’s pretty safe to say that they’re relationship didn’t get better after the war began. Zarkon hid her identity and her child from her for 10,000 years and essentially used her as a tool of war. It’s pretty fucked up.

I know it’s pretty well established that Zarkon treats Haggar with more respect than his other underlings, but I feel like it would be interesting to see that change overtime. We see that after Voltron comes back, Zarkon becomes very obsessed with Voltron/Black, and he and Haggar start disagreeing more and more.

Remember the moment where one of Haggar’s druids told Zarkon Haggar said he needed to rest and Zarkon hit them with his bayard and told them, “remember who your master is”? What if, instead of a random druid, it was Haggar who he hit?

I feel like that would be a good way to show Haggar and the audience just how much Zarkon’s obsession with Voltron is affecting him, and make the audience feel a tiny bit bad for her.

Then later in season 4, when Zarkon wakes up from his coma and finds out Haggar brought Lotor back to take his place he gets pissed. He puts a price on Lotor’s head and has Haggar arrested for treason. She steals a ship, escapes, and later on meets up with Lotor’s generals.

Her and Zarkon are officially broken up and her quest to reclaim her identity and get her son back begins.

4. Oriande

I never liked the concept of chosen/sacred Alteans. The idea that some Alteans are just born more powerful than others just feels iffy. My idea of Oriande is that it’s an Altean holly land, any Altean can enter it just depends on whether or not you can pass the White Lion’s trial. Passing the trial proves that your intentions are pure and and the White Lion will bless you with power.

I didn’t like how Honerva seemed to force her way into Oriande, I think it would be more effective if she had gone through normally because, at this point, her intentions were pure. She was going there to purge herself of the dark magic corrupting her and reclaim her memories so she could go get her son back.

I also like the idea that Oriande is a sorta link to the Altean after life, and you can speak with people you’ve lost. Allura gets to speak with Alfor, and Honerva speaks with her mother.

You could also have her be confronted by the spirits of the Alteans she helped destroy. Have the weight of her past actions bear down on her. An important part of any redemption arc is acknowledging the terrible shit you’ve done in the past, and that was severely lacking in Honerva’s arc.

Another interesting thing you could do is have Honerva talk to her younger self. The one that died 10,000 years ago. This kinda thing actually happened in 80s Voltron, young Haggar appearing in Haggar’s head trying to convince her to be good again.

5. Her relationship with Lotor

Now this is where the redemption arc really falls apart. I forget who, but one of the writers said after S5 that Haggar/Honerva was motivated purely by love for her son, but man did they do a bad job of showing that.

And it would’ve been so easy to fix that problem, just have her not be horrible to him. Have them have actual civil conversations, have her protect and defend him. Don’t have her reject him as a fucking baby!

Imagine if, after Zarkon destroys Lotor’s planet, instead of immediately deciding to

exile him, Zarkon says that this is the final straw and he’s going to have Lotor executed. But Haggar speaks up to defend Him. There’s actually a scene in DOTU where Zarkon tries to kill Lotor and Haggar gets on her knees and begs for him to be spared. (Though the scene was mostly played for laughs.)

she asks for mercy and justifies it by saying it would be unwise to kill his only heir. It’s a weak argument, Lotor’s a half breed and couldn’t realistically take the throne, but Zarkon does concede, he still loves her after all, and has Lotor exiled.

And Haggar isn’t spying on him because she doesn’t trust him, but because she’s concerned for him. When Lotor confronts Haggar about sending her cronies after him, she says she knows he’s hiding something. Lotor asks if she’s threatening him, thinking she’s going to rat him out, but she says no, she’s not threatening him, she’s just trying to warn him against doing anything stupid because, with Zarkon seemingly on his death bed, the empire needs Lotor’s leadership.

At this point in the story, Haggar is questioning her loyalty to Zarkon, so I feel like it would make sense for her to be silently supporting Lotor from the shadows.

Then at the Kral Zera in season 5, It was weird to me how she was helping Lotor through Kuron while also telling him he couldn’t be emperor and trying to put Sendak on the throne. I feel like it would’ve made more sense for Sendak to just show up on his own without Haggar.

Haggar wouldn’t even be at the Kral Zera, she would just watch through Kuron.

And then we get to S6 when she actually reveals to Lotor that she’s his mom. This scene was just so poorly done. She never actually apologizes to him, she’s just like “yeah I forgot you were my kid and I never loved you, but were cool now right?” I remember when I saw S8E2 and it shows her after Lotor rejects her and she looks like she’s about to cry, I was just thinking, “this would be very emotional and sad IF she had actually apologized and made it clear that she genuinely loved him.” But she didn’t and I don’t know why!

And then we get to season 8, and of course everything in S8 is bad but Honerva’s story is particularly bad. She’s supposed to be motivated by love for Lotor yet she doesn’t act like she actually cares about him at all.

She manipulates his corpse and when she sees his gross melted body, she doesn’t even react that much. When a mother sees her child’s mutilated corpse, how do you think she reacts? Screaming? Crying?? Hurling??? But no. She’s just like, “...”

And then when she goes to the alternate reality and meets baby Lotor and he rejects her, her reaction isn’t disappointment or sadness, it’s anger and entitlement. She immediately decides, “ok, fuck this kid. Let’s destroy this reality.”

It just doesn’t make sense! This is the season you’re trying to REDEEM her! Why are you going out of your way to make her so vile?

6. Her S7-S8 plan

(Keep in mind I haven’t watched S7/S8 since they came out and barely even watched S8 to begin with, so I don’t remember some things and I can’t be bothered to rewatch them.)

Okay, starting with S7, she’s not in this season at all but in “The Ruins” the druid dude says that her final order was to hunt and destroy the Blade of Marmora. I guess it makes a certain amount of sense because she saw that it was Keith who brought Lotor’s actions to light, but that whole plot was really pointless in my opinion. (Was anybody really hoping for a rematch between Keith and that one random druid?)

If you want us to forgive Honerva for her crimes, you really shouldn’t keep adding more unnecessary crimes. It’s established that there were a lot of Galra war lords vying for power and pirates looking for money, just have it be that Kolivan got kidnapped by one of them.

Then you have her season 8 plan and I’m gonna be real with y’all, I have no idea how to fix this mess.

I feel like the basics of her plan could work. She tries to get Lotor and Sincline out of the rift but when she gets him he’s a melted corpse so the plan then becomes to use sincline to go to another reality to find a living Lotor, but opening all these rifts causes problems and the paladins have to stop her.

But all the shit with manipulating the colony Alteans, killing the White Lion, desecrating Oriande, and destroying Olkarion and entire realities, it was all so unnecessary.

Personally I would cut the colony Alteans from the story all together, there are other ways for Lotor to betray the team. It was a lazy way of making Lotor 100% evil and having Honerva manipulate them is unnecessarily cruel, especially in the season you’re trying to redeem her.

Here’s a very basic outline of how I would do this plot.

If we’re going by season 8’s logic that she needs a sacrifice to bring back Sincline, I would’ve had the Galra she killed at the Kral Zera be the sacrifice, not the White Lion. She stands on the pyramid and talks about how the empire stole her life from her and she wants revenge as she absorbs their quintessence into herself and then uses that to bring back Sincline.

Then when she finds Lotor dead she takes Sincline and uses it to go to another reality where she can be with her family.

The danger comes when she opens rifts to the other realities and rift creatures start coming out and causing damage. The paladins fight them and follow her into the rift to stop whatever evil plan she may have. Because the paladins don’t know that Haggar is now Honerva and all this is just to get Lotor back. They think this is all some plan for multiverse domination or some shit.

Meanwhile Honerva has just been rejected by little Lotor and seeing Voltron show up pushes her over the edge and they fight.

But when they find out the real reason she’s doing all this they start trying to appeal to her and convince her to give up and close the rift peacefully. And similarly to how the paladins had to sacrifice the castle to close the rifts created by the fight with Lotor, Honerva has to sacrifice herself to close the rifts.

In the end, I feel like a Honerva redemption arc could’ve worked if the writers were actually competent and actually made an effort to have her be sympathetic, but In canon, her reasoning, “If I can’t indulge in the simple joys of life, why should anybody else?” just doesn’t cut it.

It’s disappointing. VLD had so much potential. I’m thinking of just rewriting the entire series from the beginning. Hopefully putting all my thoughts out into the universe will help me move on.

#voltron #voltron legendary discourse #haggar #honerva #Lotor #prince lotor #Allura #princess allura #vld #vld critical #Altean #voltron season 8 #zarkon #emperor Zarkon #zonerva #Galra #redemption arc

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lassieposting · 3 years

Note

d'you think Erskine was ever jealous of Skug?

God, yes.

Honestly, I think jealousy has just always been a massive part of Erskine's personality, like. His entire life is an exercise in what an inferiority complex can do to a person.

With the backgrounds I've given them, Skug and Saracen are both Old Money Aristocrats. Their families have been landed/titled/insanely wealthy for generations upon generations. They're the 16th century equivalent of the 1%.

Erskine, on the other hand, is part of the nouveau riche that emerged as industry started to become a thing. His father was born in the gutter, grew up a street rat, and became a self-made man over several mortal lifetimes thanks mostly to being a) morally unscrupulous in his financial dealings and b) in the right place at the right time. So while Erskine's family is also insanely wealthy by the time he's born, he doesn't have that history. He isn't part of a family whose crest everyone knows. His father married the younger daughter of a minor noble family, so they're aristocrats a) by marriage and b) by the skin of their teeth.

In the 1600s, the old money aristocrats didn't like the new money aristocrats, in general. Erskine's family would've been seen as overambitious social climbers, white trash pretending to be upper class. So Erskine, from the very start, is having to try very hard to break into a world that Skug and Saracen have lived in from birth. He would've had a lot of doors closed in his face and missed out on a lot of opportunities purely by dint of having a father who aspired to better than he was born with.

And this is a recurring thing as he grows up. He goes to the same fancy school Saracen went to (several hundred years earlier), but he gets picked on by the old money boys because they stick together, and he's the outsider. He always has to work twice as hard to prove himself, to prove that he's just as clever, just as capable, just as worthwhile. He has the same interests as the other boys his age, and he's pretty, so he grows into a popular, handsome young man who likes hunting and horses and gambling and frittering money away on whatever or whoever catches his fancy, and on the surface he's practically indistinguishable from the Saracens and Skugs of the world, but on the inside he's still got that little voice whispering they think they're better than you and no matter what he does, he can't get it to be quiet.

And then he joins the army the way most young aristocrats did in those days, by purchasing the commission he wanted, and it looks like that's going to go really well for him, because suddenly he's surrounded by the enlisted rabble, and they don't know the difference between him and any other officer. He's a little lordling in their eyes, and that's validating, because he's so much more like the boys who bullied him at school than he is like these unwashed, uneducated people.

But he makes friends with Hopeless, and at some point he gets introduced to Hopeless' friends, and then he's drafted into a different squad and suddenly his new CO is Skulduggery Pleasant, hero of the Battle of Black Rock, the youngest captain in the forces at that time and promoted via field commission. Where Erskine bought his way in, Skug signed up as a bog-standard soldier (because while he could afford officership, Ghastly couldn't, and they signed up together), and got promoted on merit. So now Erskine's got a massive shadow to get out from under, and isn't that just his luck?

And, he likes Skulduggery. He does. He's a fantastic leader and he doesn't give a rat's ass about Erskine's background and Erskine learns a lot from him. But he's also completely unaware of just how spoiled and privileged he is, and it's infuriating. Skug will bitch and complain about having to go to balls and galas and fancy high-class dinners, and snipe at his own class for the backhanded way they do things, and all Erskine's ever wanted is to fit in with those people the way Skug can. Skug has every opportunity Erskine's ever longed for in his entire life. He could've married a great lady and become Lord Somethingorother and never had to sweat a drop for any of it. And instead he...abandoned his house and family, took up with a tailor's family instead and then married a working class girl? No matter how much Erskine likes Skug as a person, he's appalled by his life choices. All Erskine's dreams on a plate, and Skug spat on them.

Skug also notices leadership potential in Erskine and lowkey grooms him for command the way Corrival did with him, so after a century or so there is. Tension. They butt heads A Lot over how the Dead Men operate, the command structure, who's got the better plan. Erskine very badly wants to make a name for himself, but it's very difficult to do that when you're overshadowed by an established war hero at every turn.

Ultimately though, he was never gonna be Skug. He was a perfectly good soldier, but his primary talent wasn't in punching people and leading a cavalry charge, it was schmoozing and persuasion and being charming. He would've made a fantastic politician if he hadn't fallen in with the Children of the Spider. But they looked at him the way people usually looked at Skug, like he's their golden boy, their guiding light, their spokesman, and he is deeply vulnerable to the sort of gratification that gave him. Adding in that they saved his life and nursed him back to health while the Sanctuary essentially abandoned him and then replaced him, it's understandable why he changed sides. But he could've made his name as an Elder if he hadn't thrown his lot in with the creepy spider people.

tldr; yes he was jealous, but of an entire class of people, not just skug

#skulduggery pleasant #sp headcanons #erskine ravel

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