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zooophagous · 1 year

Note

So why do you hate the advertising industry?

Hokay so.

Let me preface this with some personal history. It's not relevant to the sins of the advertising industry perse but it illustrates how I started to grow to hate it.

I wanted to be a veterinarian growing up, but to be a vet you basically have to be good enough to get into medical school. I do not have the math chops or discipline to make it in medical school. I went into art instead, and in a desperate attempt to find some commercial viability that didn't involve moving to California, I went into graphic design.

I've been a graphic designer for about seven or eight years now and I've worn a lot of hats. One of them was working in a print shop. Now, the print shop had a lot of corporate customers who had various ad campaigns. One of them was Gate City Bank, which had a bigass stack of postcards ordered every couple months to mail to their customers.

Now, paper comes from Dakota Paper, and they make their paper the usual way. Somewhere far, far from our treeless plain there is a forest of tall trees. These trees are cut down and put on big fossil fuel burning trucks and hauled to a paper mill that turns them into pulp while spewing the most fowl odors imaginable over the neighboring town and loads the pulp up with bleach to give it a nice white color.

Then the paper is put on yet another big truck and hauled off to the local paper depot, then put on another big truck and delivered to my print shop, where I turned the paper into postcards telling people to go even deeper into debt to buy a boat because it's almost summer. The inks used are a type of nasty heat sensitive plastic that is melted to the surface of the paper with heat. Then the postcards are put on yet ANOTHER truck and sent to the bank, which puts them on ANOTHER truck and finally into the hands of their customers, who open their mail and take one look at the post card and immediately discard it.

Heaps and heaps and literal hundreds of pounds of literal garbage created at the whim of the marketing team several times a year. And thats just one bank in one city.

I came to realize very quickly that graphic design was the delicate art of turning trees into junk mail.

And wouldn't you know it there are a TON of companies that basically only do junk mail. Many of them operate under the guise of a "charity," sending you pictures of suffering children or animals and begging for handouts and when they get those handouts the executives take a nice fat cut, give some small token amount to whatever cause they pay lip service to, and then put the rest of the cash right back into making more mailers. "Direct mail marketing" they call it.

Oh but maybe it's not so bad, you can advertise online after all. Now that there's decent ad blocker out there and better anti-virus ads usually don't destroy your computer anymore just by existing.

Except now when I search for the exact business I want on Google it's buried under three or four different "promoted search items" tricking me into clicking on them only to shoot themselves in the foot because I searched for the specific result I wanted for a reason and couldn't use those other websites even if I felt like it.

And now we have advertising on YouTube and on every streaming service, forcing more and more eyes onto the ad for the brand new Buick Envision that parks itself because you're too stupid to do it on your own.

Oh thats ok maybe I'll get Spotify premium and go ad free and listen to some podcasts- SIKE we have the hosts of your show doing the song and dance now. Are you depressed and paranoid from listening to my true crime podcast about murdered and mutilated teenagers? That's ok, my sponsor Better Help can keep you sane enough to stay alive and spend more money.

It's gotten so terrible that now you have content farms, huge hubs of shell companies that crank out video after video to get more and more precious clicks. Which if the videos were innocuous maybe that wouldn't be so awful except now you have cooking hacks that can actually burn your house down and craft hacks that can electrocute you being flung into your eyes at the speed of mach fuck so some slimy internet clickbait jockey doesn't need to get a real job.

It of course goes without saying that animals are also relentlessly exploited by clickbait companies that will put them in compromising situations on purpose to create a fake fishing hack video or even just straight up killing them for sport by feeding small animals to a pufferfish that rips them apart for the camera.

And all of this, ALL of this doesn't even touch how adveritising is the death of art in general. Queer topics, any kind of interesting art, any kind of sex or substance use topics are scrubbed clean and hidden at the behest of advertisers.

Sex education, a nude statue, topics such as racism or sexism or bigotry in general have tags purged or hidden from search, even life saving information about SDTs or drug use, because if someone saw that and complained then Verizon might sell fewer tablets and we can't fucking have that.

Conservative talking heads often bitch and moan that they're being censored on social media. The stupid part is, they're right! They are being censored! But it's not by a woke mob, it's by ATT and Coca Cola not wanting their adspace sharing screen time with their stupid fucking opinions.

However, they won't ever figure that out, because the talking heads they get their marching orders from like Tucker and Jones ALSO rely on the sweet milk flowing from the sponsorship teat and they aren't about to turn on their meal ticket so they have to come up with even stupider shit to say for the train to continue rolling.

I managed to rant this far without even getting into the ads I see for the beauty industry. The other day a botox ad described wrinkles as "moderate to severe crows feet" as if wrinkles are a symptom of a fucking serious disease! Like having a flaw in your skin is a medical problem that you need thousands of dollars of literal botulism toxin to fix! I was incandescent with anger.

Advertising is a polluting, censoring, anti educational and anti art industry at it's very core. It destroys human connections, suppresses human thought and makes us hate our own bodies. It ads no value, actively detracts from value, and serves no real purpose and I believe it should be almost if not entirely banned.

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eideticallys · 1 year

Text

The Dangers of Tennis Skirts

request: based on this.

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: “you know, reid,” you said, “guys ask girls out on a date before they bury their faces into their thighs.”

genre: fluff

word count: 817

author's notes: this is my first ever blurb! i wrote this to practice writing blurbs & writing this was so fun. also, i hope anon doesn’t mind that i wrote this with a fem!reader in mind & reader noticing spencer getting flustered. i just think it would be a lot funnier that way. thank you for this cute request, anon! i got to practice writing blurbs and it's about shy!spencer? a win for me! i hope you'll love this ♡ also posted on ao3 (spencereids).

“REID, YOU OKAY?” Morgan asked the younger male.

Despite his blatant intelligence and many talents, Spencer Reid is just a man. And just like any hot-blooded guy out there who is interested in exploring the curves and dips of a woman’s body, Spencer can’t help but have his IQ slashed down to sixty, or whatever it was Emily said before. And unfortunately for him, hiding the effect of seeing you in a short, white tennis skirt for the first time is not one of Spencer’s talents.

“Yep,” Spencer said, popping the p as he tried to stop his ogling—cue the word, stop—but failed magnanimously, eyes wide, pulse racing, and mouth gaping.

Morgan frowned at the doctor's weird behavior. Usually, when asked how he is, Spencer would go on tangents that would be relevant to the conversation at hand. A single Yep! would not suffice for the boy genius.

Something is going on with him, Morgan thought.

Worried but still weirded out by Spencer, Morgan followed his line of sight and guffawed at what he found. You just entered the bullpen in a fluffy beige sweater, a white tennis skirt, and with your hair tied with a white ribbon.

"Oh, pretty boy," Morgan exclaimed between chuckles. "You are hopeless!"

"Who's hopeless?" Garcia, who just sat on one of the chairs available, interjected.

Morgan continued chuckling and motioned to Spencer, whose eyes were about to fall out of their sockets, and then pointed at you just entering the area. Garcia gasped in happiness. She always thought you and boy genius would make the perfect couple.

And like Spencer, Garcia has many talents. One of which is playing Cupid.

Making the most out of Spencer’s inattentiveness—busy staring at you—Garcia made quick work of calling you over to talk about your cute outfit.

“Hey, Y/N!” Garcia blurted out. “I love LOVE your outfit. We all do.”

She made sure to gesture at Morgan and definitely at Spencer. “Right, boy genius?”

This interrupted Spencer in reverie and unfortunately for him, he’s not the most subtle when he’s back from being lost in thought.

“Are you okay, Reid?” You asked, none the wiser at the obvious display of Spencer getting distracted by your outfit, specifically, your skirt.

Spencer’s eyes widened at your concern. Frightened you’d find out the reason he was dazed was because of you, he instantly stood up from his seat, failing to notice that an electric cord was stuck beneath the chair. And with his quick scrambling, coupled with the fact that his reflexes are akin to that of a toddler just learning to walk, Spencer ended up falling face-first into the floor.

At his clumsiness, Morgan snickered loudly, earning him a slap from Garcia with a matching, “You are not helping at all!” And a glare from you to which he raised his arms in defeat. You held your palm out for Spencer to reach, who was busy trying to dust off his pants, not noticing it was you helping him up until he looked up.

Aside from talents, Spencer was blessed with the gift of hard luck. And unfortunately for him, it seemed his hard luck always tripled in front of a pretty girl—you. Because instead of looking into your eyes when he looked up, his eyes landed on the plush softness of your thighs, which you haven’t failed to notice.

Spencer never wanted to dig a hole and jump in it so badly before today.

You were already giggling, cheeks reddening at the thought of your effect on the genius. Imagine reducing a cute guy with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory to a clumsy mess on the floor. Quite flattering, especially if he happened to be the guy you have been crushing on for quite some time now. Not that he knew that, of course. But a girl has gotta take her chances, right? And what better way to tease the hell out of your crush than when he was face-first into your thighs?

“You know, Reid,” You said coolly, “Guys ask girls out on a date before they bury their faces into their thighs.”

Spencer’s eyes bulged out even more while Morgan was belly laughing at this point, Garcia right behind him, giggling in delight.

“I-I uh,” Spencer began to ramble, trying to come up with a tangent that could get him out of this mess, failing to remember that just like him, you were gifted with many talents as well. And that is making the most out of an unfortunate—not unfortunate, your crush is face first on your thighs!—situation.

“Sorry, Spence,” You chortled, ruffling his hair. “You’re not getting out of this one. We are going out after this case.”

This got Morgan falling out of his chair in laughter, Garcia giggling along, and Spencer’s pinkened cheeks resembling an actual tomato with their redness.

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brujamala-aka-gigi · 4 days

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still fucked up? here's a pick a pile reading.

pile 1. pile 2. pile 3.

a pick a pile reading inspired on sundays being the longest and most tedious day of the week. i never know what to do on a sunday other than overthinking and feeling sort of gloomy.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ – • · Pile 1 · • – ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Honestly, I really dig this combination of cards. I feel like this Page of Wands is asking you to take a different approach when thinking of success. It's clear that you value material and spiritual achievements equally, but you see them as something that's too far away from your reality. I think that it is very important to recognize that you are guarded by energies that match your ambitions, and you are doing things right to become the person you wish to be.

Other than that, it is also relevant to think of the dissonances and miscommunications that can cause you trouble when trying to face any obstacles in your journey. The Emperor and The High Priestess are both equally strong in their own ways. Both of these energies are present in your life, and they happen to be complete polar opposites, the peak of male energy and the peak of female energy. Balancing both with every step you take is difficult, therefore it's understandable if you choose to focus on one or another depending on the moment. Ideally, these two should be able to communicate with one another, so you don't betray the nature of one taking actions more suitable to the other.

In order to do this, I'd say that it's a great moment to look at the world with child-like eyes; allow yourself to be amused and ruled by curiosity, enrich your life with first time experiences and find joy in spaces where your creativity is nurtured. Don't assume that your learning years are over.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ – • · Pile 2 · • – ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Okay, this is a tough one. Stay strong bestie. So… Clearly that Ten of Swords is about something in your head that has caused major negative impacts on your life. I wouldn't say it's mostly about emotional distress by itself, but instead I think it's more about the prevalence of dysfunctional thought processing patterns that are being ignored or mishandled in the social and emotional parts of your life. It seems that a deep understanding of your own sensitivity hasn't been enough to cope with this.

But, it's not all bad, as the presence of both Kings, Wands and Cups, show me that the maturity and strength is there, what's lacking tho, is a more solid sense of trust on the logic presented by sources outside your own head. Feeling trapped and buried by your own thoughts, it's common enough that you can share them with trusted ones surrounding you in order to appease feelings of doubt and desperation.

This combination of cards shows me that you have the capacity to move from this thought provoked stagnation, to move from a mental eco chamber of negativity. To accomplish this you should aim to build more solid relations based on nurturing each other's potential and emotional strength. Don't be doubtful when taking the first steps towards what you already know you can do for bettering yourself and others. Stop being confident in negative thoughts and begin being confident in positive ones, even if you need help beginning to do so.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ – • · Pile 3 · • – ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Well, one is not bad but it’s not that good either. I think the main topic of this spread is to remain cautious when material success is achieved, in order to not cause yourself emotional and spiritual harm. Sometimes our material achievements can be directly related to spiritual growth, yet, we can not deny that the energy we spend on creating success for ourselves is just as valuable as the energy we spend on our spiritual journeys. In this case, the Seven of Pentacles shows me that your sense of purpose, in resonance with patience and determination, will bring great satisfaction as long as you take time to reflect and rest from the hard work.

Nonetheless, be careful with who you choose to be generous with. There’s nothing wrong with providing a helping hand, but make sure that those who receive it understand the value of your hard work and are not there to deceit you by playing victims. Keep an eye on anything that is causing you doubts on your enterprises, and do not fool yourself with ideas and proposals that come from unrealistic perspectives. This is a great moment to reflect on the ways your energy is being received by others. The main priority should be your well being and your stability first. You can’t give to others if you can’t provide for yourself.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ – • · FIN · • – ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

hey there, im gigi i did this tarot thing, hii. hope this was at least fun to read i guess? im just chilling with the cards and writing. thinking about making a introduction post but then idk... like i love this blog and i love tumblr so im like ayyy i get to practice my english and get back into tarot? slay. like i swear

im kinda rusty with tarot's rn but hopefully eventually I'll get back on it like i used to so i guess that if someone wants to follow me in case i open my questions inbox to answer questions with the cards and stuff that could be nice.

ugh and im also putting together a nicer space for the readings, my desk is full of paint stains (my normal job is art related lol) and there's always a university thing peaking from the side of my desk, it's like my notes are watching me while i kinda ignore them...

anyways i got like 40 notes on my first post, soooo thaaaanks omg i was so like nervous about it i hate that im this kinda shy to post tarot content anynomously like wtf how can i be like that when im posting nasty thirst traps on my personal instagram with no context?? the duality of women i guess. okay this is too much venting

bye thanks for reading, stay bad, stay focused, might post a card of the week PAC reading later seee yaaaa love yaaa

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eddiemunsonspantschain · 10 months

Text

Things Change - E.M

Author's Note: Did I wanna start another Eddie series? Yes. This might be a shorter series tho than the one I'm (trying) to put out. Special thanks to my babes @wroteclassicaly and @corrodedcorpses for reading over my smut for approval lol. And thank you to @boomhauer who helped with some relevent info for later chapters 👀

Warnings: Alcohol, sex, p in v sex, cream pie, oral (f receiving), smutty smut smut smut (minors gtfo), 18+, afab reader

You do not have permission to copy, translate or repost my work onto any other platforms.

You had no idea how you ended up here. Moving to Hawkins hadn’t been your decision, of course. That was made by your parents. It was just lucky for you that you made fast friends with Robin Buckley. Which led you to being friends with Steve Harrington… which led to the entire party. You had been shocked to say the least. You didn’t think you would gain a friend group so quickly. The kids were fun to be around and had insisted on showing you how to play D&D since you were into fantasy. That only led to them trying to introduce you to Eddie Munson. Tried being the operative word. Despite everyone else liking you, it seemed Eddie was the exception. You had no idea what you did to him to warrant this distaste.

It made things worse. Worse only because you found yourself smitten with the Dungeon Master upon meeting him. He had awkwardly waved at you and barely met your eye when you were introduced, but you were entranced. He was pretty. Stupidly so. Not to mention his nerdy side made you smile, especially when you had seen him talking about campaigns with the other youngsters for their Hellfire meetings. Some of his music taste was out there for what you listened to, but there were a couple of bands you both listened to. At first, you assumed Eddie was just not overly friendly. You knew what people at Hawkins High said about him. Robin reassuring you it was all bullshit. That none of it was true at all.

As time went on, you tried to get closer to Eddie. You tried to talk with him, but anytime you got close to talking to him, he would roll his eyes and show his impatience before finding an excuse to leave. When it came to group conversations, he always made comments about what you had to say. He teased you at times, made you feel stupid for things sometimes when you fumbled something or said something incorrectly. The last straw for you had been when the kids tried to get you to play D&D with Hellfire and Eddie shot it down. The kids had been teaching you how to play for weeks and you enjoyed learning the game. When you showed up at Hellfire though Eddie denied you membership and told you to leave. With tears in your eyes, you stomped out of the drama room and out to your car.

You hated Eddie Munson.

Any affection you had for him had disappeared. Instead, you couldn’t stand when he would talk because it was usually to make fun of you. You didn’t find his rambles endearing anymore. Any attraction you felt, you buried away so no one would know. Eventually, it became clear the lines were drawn. The others knew Eddie didn’t like you. That the two of you couldn’t get along for more than five minutes if you were left alone.

“It’ll be fun! C’mon.” Nancy spoke as she pushed aside hanger after hanger in your closet, assessing your clothes.

“You know I hate parties.” You told her, watching her rifle through everything. It wasn’t that you hated parties, it was that you hated crowds. Plus, you knew Eddie was going. The last time you went to a party with Eddie, he had made fun of your outfit and teased you about being desperate to get a guy’s attention all for simply wearing a tank top that showed off a little more cleavage than your other ones.

“You hate crowds. C’mon. It’ll be fun and the school year is getting closer to being done. We’ll be graduates! We deserve to go out!” Nancy argued as she pulled out a short sleeve top with a v-neck. “This is cute! Why not this and some jeans? Maybe a skirt?”

“No skirt.” You vetoed, knowing the comment you’d get for it.

“Ignore him.” Nancy rolled her eyes before moving to your dresser for a pair of jeans and laying them on the bed with the top. “There. Add some boots and you’re ready! C’mon. You can hang out with Robin and I. Not even have to see Eddie.”

“Being with Robin means being with Steve, and being with Steve means being with Eddie.” You clarified with a small smile. “I’ll go, Nanc. You’re right about it being our last party before graduation.” You answered and slid off of your bed to go and change into the clothes she set out.

“Then you can hang out with Jonathan and I!” Nancy reasoned.

—---------------------

Except that didn’t happen. You should have known that the couple would be off with one another not long after entering the party. You all shared a couple drinks but Nancy had dragged Jonathan onto the dance floor, leaving you in the corner by yourself. Steve had found a girl to dance with. Robin was drinking with Vickie who had made a surprise appearance. So you found yourself leaning on a wall nursing another drink. You had a good buzz going. You were unsure what was in the punch besides copious amounts of alcohol, and you were feeling it. You hummed as you sipped at your almost empty cup.

That was when you spotted him. It hadn’t occurred to you that Eddie would be left alone too when you saw Steve and Robin were occupied. You had no idea where Argyle was though you could take a pretty good guess. Eddie himself was situated across the way from you. You watched his long fingers pinch the cigarette between his lips, pulling it away as a plume of smoke followed. He was staring at you, though you couldn’t imagine why. You looked away realizing you were staring back at him. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea after all, right?

You drained the last of the dark red liquid in your cup and made your way back to the kitchen. You moved to the punch bowl, filling up your cup half way once more. Someone slid up beside you and you knew exactly who it was based on the smell of tobacco and Old Spice invading your nose. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you took a sip from your cup. Long, ringed fingers wrapped around your cup and your hand as you pulled the cup away from your mouth, leading it now to his. You turned your head, watching Eddie as he took a long sip from your cup. You were about to comment that it was your cup and to get his own when he moved the cup away from his mouth. His pink tongue poked out, licking up the ruby liquid on his lips with his eyes never straying from your face.

“Munson.” You murmured, bringing your cup back to your mouth and finishing what was left inside.

“Y/L/N.” Eddie murmured back, hand falling away from the cup and moving to your hip instead.

You stared at Eddie. Unsure of what he was planning to do. His other hand moved to your free hip, and he pulled you from the punch bowl. He turned you both, pressing you against the fridge, making the magnets fall off. Before you could register what was happening, his lips found yours. He tasted like the punch you both drank and your cherry lip gloss that had transferred from the cup to his lips. You melted into his kiss as you kissed him back, hands moving up to cup his cheeks as he pressed closer to you. The kiss was slow at first, but soon grew hungry. His tongue teased against your lips and you parted them, moaning as his tongue touched yours.

Eddie’s hands squeezed your hips and a small whine left your lips as he pulled away from you. His large hand grasped yours, tugging you towards the exit for the kitchen. You followed, letting Eddie pull you towards the stairs. You both ascended the stairs and after the third door you checked, you found an empty room. You both shuffled inside, shutting the door loudly behind you. Not that it mattered, considering the volume of the party happening downstairs. As soon as the party was shut out, your lips were back on Eddie’s.

There was a dull thud of his leather jacket hitting the ground before his hands were on you. He pushed your top up to your bust, brushing his fingers over your skin and groaning against your lips. He broke away to tug your top over your head, mouth descending on the swell of your tits. He kissed your warm flesh, dipping his tongue between your breasts as his hands tugged your bra straps down. You reached behind yourself, unclasping your bra and pulling it off of your arms. As soon as they were free, his mouth found your nipple, sucking harshly on it and pulling a loud moan from you. A growl left his chest as he moved to mark the side of your breast. You tugged at the back of Eddie’s shirt with a soft whimper. With a soft pop Eddie let go of your boob to pull his shirt over his head.

“Eager, sweetheart?” He breathed with a dopey grin like he wasn’t the one who cornered you in the kitchen and dragged you up there.

“Shut up and take off your clothes.” You answered, popping the button on your jeans and pulling them down your legs.

“Don’t gotta tell me twice.” He murmured as he worked his own jeans off. He eyed your legs as you kicked aside your jeans, now going for your panties. He reached out to grab your wrists. “No. That’s for me.” He growled quietly before lifting you. A squeak left your lips as he did so, not expecting him to lift you up like that. You instinctually wrapped your legs around him as he carried you, distracting yourself by tangling your hands in his hair and dragging his lips back to yours. You felt Eddie dipping you down and the softness of a mattress meeting your back. His lips left yours, returning to nuzzle your breasts before moving down your belly. He pressed kisses against your abdomen, working his way down to your hips. You whined, lifting your lips to get more contact from him. Eddie snaked one hand up to grip your waist as he teased his tongue along the waistband of your panties. Chocolate orbs rolled up to watch you as his tongue dipped under the soft cotton.

“Eddie, don’t tease me.” You whimpered, feeling your cheeks flush at the low chuckle he let out.

“You tease me all the time, sweet thing.” He murmured, snapping the waistband of your panties with his teeth.

“Look who’s talking.” You huff as you reach down to gently tug on his curls. It didn’t even occur to you what he meant. You had simply answered as you did considering he teased you all the time, just not like this.

Eddie groaned at the tugging and nipped at your hip. Finally, he took your panties between his teeth and tugged them down. He kept using his teeth, letting his hand help the other side until he completely removed your panties. He sat up with the cotton between his teeth with a large grin. He dropped the pair into his hands and hummed, pressing his nose to them before setting them aside. “Why smell those when I have the real thing in front of me?” He mused, hooking his hands under your knees as he moved to lie on his belly. His hot breath fanned over your core as he spread your legs. “Nice and wide for me, princess.” He cooed, nudging his nose against your inner thigh. He made sure to take time to mark those too until he had you squirming and your slick running between your cheeks, no doubt wetting the sheets under you. It wasn’t until you begged did he finally flatten his tongue against you, licking a broad stripe from your leaking entrance to the bundle of sensitive nerves above.

A whine left your lips as you arched your hips, wanting his attention on that bundle of nerves again. Eddie ignored you and dipped his tongue into your aching hole. His hands kept a firm grip on your thighs as he fucked you with his tongue, making you writhe under him. He pressed his face against you, nose bumping your neglected clit as he moved his head from side to side. He groaned against you, soon taking his tongue out of you to lick and suck on your folds, letting his tongue flick against your clit with every pass. A sigh of relief left you when he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked just as he pushed a finger into you. You whined his name, rocking your hips as he pumped his finger slowly into you.

“Eddie, please.” You breathed, tugging on his head as you moaned and bit down on your lip.

“Please, what?” Eddie asked against you, flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit and making you yelp at the contact.

“I need you.” You whined, tugging on his hair again.

“Need me how, princess?” He chuckled and you swore even though you weren’t looking at him, you could hear his stupid smile.

“You know how!” You huffed at him.

“Say it.” Hell no. You tugged on his hair again. Eddie’s response was a swift smack to your thigh, and you gasped at the sting on your skin. You looked down at Eddie, who had his glistening chin resting on your pubic bone. He looked up at you, chocolate orbs now swimming in black. He licked his lips and raised a brow at you expectantly. You frowned at him. Eddie shrugged and once again smacked your thigh. A whimper left your lips.

“Say. It.” Eddie growled at you, turning his head to nip and suck at your hip.

You groaned, huffing in defeat as you laid your head back against the pillows. “I need you to fuck me.” You mumbled.

“What was that? I can’t hear you.” Eddie hummed, fingers tapping against your thigh impatiently.

“I need you to fuck me.” You repeated a little louder.

Eddie smirked, running his tongue over the mark he left on your hip now. “Ask me nicer.”

“Eddie, I swear to God-”

“God isn’t here now, sweetheart. Just me. Ask nicely and I’ll fuck you.”

You huffed, feeling the annoyance creeping up on you that the arousal had quelled for the time being. You knew if you didn’t comply, he would most likely leave you there aching and needy. So you smoothed your fingers in his hair. You gently started to massage at the roots where you had tugged and you felt Eddie turn into a puddle between your thighs. Where his form had been sturdy and rigid before, he now relaxed between your thighs as your ministrations. “Eddie,” You spoke sweetly. There was silence. “Eddie?” You tried again, looking down to see his pretty eyes had fluttered closed. You smirked to yourself as you realized you had found a weakness, apparently. His eyes opened when your fingers stopped.

“Hm?” A blush settled on his cheeks.

“Eddie,” You cooed, starting to massage again.

“Yes, princess?” Eddie breathed against your skin as he pressed a kiss to it.

“I need you to fuck me, please?” You pouted at him. “I need you to make me cum on your cock.”

“Holy fucking hell,” Eddie groaned, pressing his face against your belly.

You giggled as you slowed your massaging of his scalp, instead tugging once again. This spurred Eddie back into action. He moved up your body, pressing his lips to yours. You groaned as you tasted yourself on his lips. His hands moved down to push his boxers off, managing to wiggle them off of his body and toss them aside somewhere in the room. A shiver ran through you as you felt his length touch you. You nibbled his lower lip as you snaked a hand down, gasping as you wrapped your hand around him and felt just how thick he was. You gave him a few tugs, whining softly and wondering how the hell he was going to fit inside you. Your past partners had been nothing to brag about in terms of size. Some average, some… less than. But Eddie was bigger than you’d taken before. A small hiss left his lips, and he grabbed at your wrist.

“If you keep jerking me, sweetheart, I’m gonna cum all over your thighs.” He murmured against your lips, biting down harshly on your plump lower lip.

You whimpered at the sting of pain, rubbing your thumb over Eddie’s shaft since he was holding your wrist. “Want it for me.” You mumbled back.

Eddie breathed a chuckle and let go of your wrist. “Want it for you?” He hummed, amused as you nodded back. “What do you mean, baby? Tell me.”

You pecked his lips, now moving your freed hand up to tease your thumb around his tip and smearing his precum around. Eddie let out a shaky breath. “Want your cum inside me, Munson.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie moaned, “Take it, sweetheart. It’s yours.” You grinned at his words, feeling him shift closer to you. His hand soon joined yours, guiding his cock to your aching hole. You bit your lip and let out a soft whimper as he teased his tip against you. “Such a sweet thing. Letting me fuck you raw.” He cooed as he pushed his dick into you.

You moaned, biting on your lower lip as he split you open. You wiggled your hips, arms wrapping back around his neck and settling a hand in his curls as he sunk inch by inch into you. Your walls fluttered around his length, begging for more. When his hips met yours, you let out a shaky breath. “Oh, my god.” You breathed, feeling a pleasant sting as he stretched you for him. Eddie pulled back before snapping his hips into yours again. A deep groan left his lips as he started a rough pace. Your mouth fell open in a pretty ‘O’ shape, moans and Eddie’s name falling from your lips easily.

“Taking me so good, pretty girl,” Eddie moaned as he drove himself into you. “Look so perfect under me while I fill you with my cock.” You almost wanted to die at how he spoke to you. His dirty talk was too good and something you hadn’t expected to like so much. With previous partners it had made you cringe hearing them attempt to talk dirty to you. But Eddie? His words were dirty and felt like sin, making a warmth pool low in your belly. You had no idea it would be like this. Hell, you hadn’t thought you’d be in this state with him. However, now that he was drilling his thick length into you, you didn’t want him to stop. Already addicted from the first taste. Eddie’s hard thrusts slowed and you let out a high-pitched whine. You were starting to feel the coil tighten low in your belly, but him slowing pulled it away from you.

“Eddie,” You whined with a pout.

Eddie chuckled and kissed your pouting lip. He took one of your hands from around him. “Do as I say.” He instructed, still driving his cock into you slowly. He moved your hand between you both, spreading your four fingers apart. He guided your hand to your pussy, two of your fingers on either side of his cock as he pushed into you with your palm digging into your clit. “Look at that.” He groaned, watching his dick disappear into you framed by your fingers. “Such a pretty sight.” He sighed, pressing on your palm to grind it against the bundle of nerves. Your walls clenched around him and he let out a near pornagraphic moan. So you clenched around him again. “Brat,” Eddie breathed shakily, grinning down at you as he started up his rough pace again. “Keep your hand there. Open your mouth.” He growled.

You moaned his name, moaning again when he moved his free hand to grab your cheeks. His thumb and pointer finger pressed in an attempt to open your mouth. You obliged, opening your mouth up for him. Eddie leaned over you and spat into your mouth. “Swallow.” He instructed and you closed your mouth, swallowing down his spit. “Good girl.” You whimpered at his praise.

Curses left your lips as you felt that pleasure mounting again. His thrusts grew sloppier as he got closer to filling you, full balls smacking against your skin. You pulled him down for a kiss, wrapping your legs tightly around him as he grinded his length into you. “Please, I’m so close!” You whined against his lips, grinding your palm against your clit.

Eddie cursed, picking up his thrusts. “C’mon, cum for me.” He grunted, moving his mouth to mark the junction between your neck and shoulder. You rocked your hips up, feeling the familiar feeling of your orgasm creeping up on you. Eddie’s name fell from your lips like a chant as you got closer, legs tightening around him and his name leaving your mouth in a long moan as your came around his length. “Fuck!” Eddie moaned, “Cumming around my cock, princess. Look who did this to you,” He babbled, enjoying the fucked out look on your face as he thrusted roughly into you.

You massaged your fingers against his scalp once the stars left your vision. “You did, Eddie. Cum for me now too, pretty boy.” You cooed, tugging on his curls. Eddie’s forehead dropped own onto your shoulder and you tugged hard, picking his head back up so you could see him as he came. His mouth fell open in a low moan as he painted your walls white, a whimper leaving you at the warmth of his seed inside of you and the look on his face as he finished. He stilled on top of you and you resumed your massaging. His body weight fell onto you fully, giving in to the exhaustion for a moment. You didn’t mind, keeping your legs around him as you massaged his scalp.

“Pretty boy, huh?” Eddie finally murmured after a few minutes.

“Shut it.” You answered, fingers now massaging the back of his neck.

Eddie hummed, licking over the reddening spot on your shoulder. “Are you, uh, on the pill?” He asked, realizing what had just occurred.

“I am, yeah.” You reassured him.

“Good,” He cleared his throat and lifted himself to look down at you. You stared back at him as it sunk in. You slept with Eddie Munson. The guy who hated you. Maybe that was the last little bit to get him out of your system for good. To get rid of any last bit of attraction to him. Eddie bit his lip as he pulled himself out of you, admiring the way his cum leaked between your fingers. He climbed off of you and an immediate sadness settled in your chest. You hadn’t expected him to cuddle you per say, but you hadn’t expected him to just up and leave so soon. You pulled the covers over your body as you sat up. Eddie had disappeared into the en suite bathroom and you could hear the water running. You winced feeling his mess leaking out of you, your fingers now covered in a mix of the both of you. Eddie appeared again, a washcloth in hand, and offered it to you. A blush settled over your cheeks.

“Thanks,” You murmured and started cleaning yourself up. Eddie pulled on his boxers, finding his jeans quickly and pulling them on. He gathered your clothes too, setting them on the bed as he sourced out his clothes too. You finished cleaning up, disappearing into the bathroom to pee and clean up a bit more before leaving the bathroom. You grabbed your bra, pulling it on before tugging your shirt on. You looked around for your panties. You huffed. “Eddie.”

“Hm?”

You held out your hand and wiggled your fingers. “Panties.”

“I don’t have em.” Eddie answered.

You gave him a ‘seriously?’ look and wiggled your fingers again. Eddie sighed dramatically, pulling your cotton panties out of his pocket and placing them in your hand. “Thank you,” You sang, pulling them on before tugging on your jeans. You sat on the bed as you pulled your boots on, mildly wondering why Eddie was still there. You were happy he hadn’t run out immediately, but he was lingering longer than you had expected him to. He produced his Camels from his pocket, placing a cigarette between his lips before pulling out a blue plastic Bic lighter. He flicked at the sparker, lighting the end of his cigarette and taking a long drag. He pulled it from his lips and offered the stick to you. You waved him off. “No thanks.” You murmured and stood from the bed.

Eddie shrugged. “Suit yourself. Let’s go.” He moved towards the door, snatching up his leather jacket from the floor. You raised a brow and followed Eddie out the door. The two of you went back downstairs, the party still ongoing. If Eddie noticed the stares, he didn’t say anything about it as he headed for the front door, still smoking his cigarette. You planned on breaking off from him and did just that, going your separate way from him.

It was only then you realized that your friends were gone. Steve most likely had left with the girl he had been dancing with. Robin and Vickie were nowhere in sight, either. You cursed, heading for the front door. Nancy, Jonathan, and Eddie were outside talking. You tried to quell the heat that rose to your cheeks as Eddie talking with your mutual friends like he hadn’t just fucked you upstairs. You walked over, leaning closer to Nancy.

“Hey! You have fun?” Nancy asked, looping her arm through yours.

“Yeah, tons.” You answered while purposely avoiding looking at Eddie.

“Ready to head home?” Jonathan asked and you nodded your head. “You good to get home, Eddie?” Jonathan asked him.

“I’m fine, man. Get the ladies home safe.” Eddie answers, eyes flicking to you before back to Jonathan. The two shared a manly hug before Eddie nodded his head to Nancy. “Wheeler, Y/L/N.” He flicked his cigarette into the street as he headed for his van.

You could feel Nancy’s eyes boring into your skull as you watched Eddie drive off.

—----------------------------------------------

As soon as you got to your house, Nancy announced she’d be sleeping over, much to Jonathan’s surprise. You knew exactly what she was doing. You played along and the two of you snuck up to your room. The second the door was closed, Nancy rounded on you.

“What happened?”

You groaned, moving to your dresser. “Nothing, Nance. I’m gonna shower, okay?” You quickly grabbed pajamas. “Help yourself to my clothes too.”

“Oh, of course.” Nancy nodded, hands on her hips. “You probably should wash the smell of sex and Eddie off of you.” When you turned to look at her, she had a large grin on her face. She pointed to your neck. You swallowed, peeking at your mirror and realizing your top exposed one of Eddie’s marks. “You smell like him, you know. The second you got close to me I could smell the cigarettes and weed.” She giggled.

“Nancy-”

“I’m not judging! I just… see why you had ‘tons’ of fun.”

You quickly ran into your bathroom and shut the door hard at her giggling.

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x afab!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #pregnant!reader

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evilminji · 10 months

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Sooooo.....

Like? We can all agree, that, all other factors aside? Given the life he's lived and the personality he has? The sheer NONSENSE he's been exposed too (from rays to oozes to powders to magics etc) AND the by definition unfinishable nature of his Life's Work/Obsession?

If Batman lived in a world connected to Danny Phantom's Zone in any way... he's DEFINITELY becoming a Realms Ghost.

Like? It's not even a "possibly" here. It's an inevitability. He HAS to protect just one more person. HAS to solve one more case. HAS to protect his kids one last time. He HAS Too, HAS Too, HAS Too.

He's Batman.

It's etched into his soul. The man's ghost will literally REFORM in that outfit. Batman with a glow. Batman the protection spirit. Kindness and grief and an eternity of "I have to save just one more."

He's not going to get to die peacefully or rest quietly. It would go against his nature.

But! Why is this relevant? Because of the Elseworld stories. Those AUs. The Multi-Verse at large. They ALL... Have Batman.

Consider: Ember McClain. Rocker. Remember that name. Yes, in some worlds she makes it big. But? Tragedy and betrayal in others. Death. Do you think the Ember's of those worlds are fine with passing on silently? Shrugging and being forgotten just because some other Ember got there first?

No. They are Ember. SHE is Ember.

Just as Clockwork is Time.

What makes a Realms Ghost different then someone like Deadman? Than a Shade? A poltergeist? Your average spook?

They are only themselves.

Singular.

Small.

A tiny little fraction, of a fraction, of a part, of a small bitty droplet, if even that. You only get one soul. But! You share it. There are many "You"s. Like the universe itself, exploding out, to live, to experience, BE, and then collapsing back together in the end. Running together like rainwater in the cracks of Realitys. Seeping back into one piece, one person, in the place between places.

It's why one forgets silly things like Names and Pasts. You had so, so many. All of them were yours. Made you. Shaped you. But are not why you refuse to let go. Why you still EXSIST. Outside of Creation and Rebirth, beyond any gods you could possibly recognize. Refined to your truest SELF.

Yet... you might still be Alive. You know that you ARE. Time exists for the living. To balance beginnings, middles, and ends. Why do you care? They aren't you yet. They will be. All of you will eventually come together. You'll become something... MORE.

Ancient.

The wisdom and complexity of a complete Being. More a Person then your average soul. Like giant stars compared to a barely burning dwarves. You know, assuming you don't give up first. Most give up. It takes a certain sort of patience, after all. A LOT of timeless time. Kinda sucks.

Yet! We consider The Bat. Persistence and Stubborn Hope made manifest. Compassion born of terrible grief. Dead. Again and again and again. Dead for those who needed him. Who hated him. Who cursed or forgot or lamented him. In every imaginable age, a story played out the same. Ending the same.

Himself instead of another.

Himself FOR the others.

Himself because none other could.

Sacrifice and Sacrifice and Sacrifice. Desperation to save. Worlds burning and cities falling. Waking up, reaching out, to shield sons and daughters that are not there. That live because he does not. Dragging himself through the stubborn walls of world after world, like a haunting final curse, upon those who harmed his family, his city. His world.

A wraith. Gothams final curse upon those who damn her.

What must it be like? To keep saying good bye? To drag your aching soul, fuller and fuller of terrible memories, across the fields of jagged glass that are portals you tear, to world's on fire. Just to save friends and family. Enemies and strangers. All of whom, must in the end... bury you anyway.

Because you must kill the hope in their eyes. Must die before them again. Because you can not stay and they can not come with you. Or worse... they can, and will soon.

Sitting on fields of battle where you tried. Gave all your spirit could muster. But... it's over now. And all you can offer is the knowledge is that they should not be afraid. You will carry them home.

And are there? Nightwings and Robins and all manner of other family, waiting back in the Zone? In a Manor where Pennyworth lives eternal? Do they also hurt and fight to save their friends? Each new piece of them coming with some great tragedy that they must put right?

Do they give Walker and the Observants migraines? Probably.

Imagine, though: Time travel added to the mix. Dying in the future. Your son managing to turn everything back to before the world ended. The Ghost King is suddenly a Baby again. Every one is freaking out. "Oh no! The king!" Blah blah blah.

But you and your family are more concerned about the world ending threat that kills a part of you. So is the baby ghost king, when you tell him. You show up in your own Cave, freak yourself out. Team up time. Though you ARE growing concerned by the Baby Kings self-neglectful behaviors. Hey, Me, are you seeing this?

.......he.... you know, he COULD use more Parental Oversight. He's a good kid. Seems lonely though. Underfed. ("BRUCE, NO." "Hmmm.")

@hdgnj @stealingyourbones @the-witchhunter @cyrwrites

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt

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skania · 1 year

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Let's talk about Aqua "using" Akane

So Aqua makes a very big deal about "using" Akane, but... did he actually use her at all?

I mean, he makes it quite clear that he is only keeping her close because she's useful, right?

So, what is Akane useful for, exactly?

Aqua's entire premise is that Akane understands Ai better than he does. He can't lose Akane because she may help him figure out Ai and find out who his dad is.

But we never, ever see Aqua asking Akane questions about Ai. At the contrary, most of his time with Akane is spent either on Aqua and Akane helping each other, or on Aqua talking to Akane about himself rather than about Ai.

(Spoilers for the entire manga below the cut!)

Let's take the TB arc for example, since this is the arc where Aqua and Akane interact again. What do we see?

First, Aqua helps Akane voice her concerns about the script:

Then he helps solve the disconnect between the ones in charge of the script and the original author, thus doing Akane and everyone involved a big service:

Then he helps Akane win against Kana, going as far as to agree to do emotional acting in order to accomplish it:

And then he helps Akane draw Kana out into the spotlight:

In other words: Aqua spends the entire arc working as a team with Akane. He makes no effort to use her at all.

What's more, all the occasions he had to get Akane's insight about Ai? He uses them to give Akane insight about himself instead.

Which is ironic, because we eventually find out that he even went as far as planting a GPS on her sometime after Love Now, in the off-chance Akane came in contact with the culprit. He obviously was pretty serious about making the most of Akane's deduction skills...

... but how was Akane supposed to deduce anything when Aqua never gave her any info? After all, Aqua only shares that information with Akane after he thinks his revenge is over and he has no use for her anymore.

Which means that, up to the point where Aqua temporarily drops his revenge plans, we don't actually see him using Akane at all.

Despite this, we still see Aqua going on and on about how he has "used" Akane.

So, let's take a closer look at all the ways he has "used" Akane, shall we?

• "About my father" is the simplest one, since that's what Aqua wanted to use Akane for in the first place. Except that, as we saw, things don't go quite as planned and he literally doesn't do anything to have Akane find his dad.

So yes, Aqua did intend to use Akane to find his dad, but he doesn't actually put her to use. In fact, Akane finds him all on her own by pure chance much, much later.

• "The corpse" is a very interesting one, because by Aqua's own admission, he trusted Akane's capabilities enough to think she may be able to find his corpse, and fed her information to help her achieve this.

This is indeed true, except for two things. One, when Aqua starts looking for the corpse, he actually tells Akane to stay behind. She's the one that chooses to follow after him. Aqua makes it sound like Akane finding his corpse was his goal from the get-go, but his actions are at odd with his words.

Secondly, Aqua stops looking for the corpse the moment Akane suggests it may be buried, but he still takes her to Goro's house either way.

Nothing he tells her about Goro is relevant to the search of his corpse. It's completely irrelevant, in fact. But Aqua still opens up to her, sharing everything about Goro, from his upbringing to his goals to his feelings.

Once again, his words say one thing, but his actions tell a different story. Akane is the first person Aqua has opened up to about Goro, and he does so without any ulterior motive.

Which leads me to the way Aqua has "used" Akane:

• "And many other things."

This is what Aqua means by "many other things". Ever since that day, Akane has been giving Aqua emotional support and he has come to treasure it, so much so that it "saves him little by little".

I'd even say he has come to rely on it, as his monologue later shows.

Now, you may say, but isn't receiving and giving emotional support a normal part of every relationship?

And you'd be completely right! But Aqua isn't a normal guy.

Aqua is guilt-ridden to the point he is in pain whenever he enjoys anything. Since the guilt he feels colors basically everything he sees, it permeates his relationship with Akane as well.

Instead of seeing all the good he has done for her, he just sees all the ways he ties her down.

Instead of seeing how much of himself he has shared with her, he focuses on what he has kept from her.

He is such a guilt-ridden, self-deprecating person that he even apologizes when Akane finds his corpse. As if getting murdered and not being found for 20+ years was his fault!

Akane puts it best: Aqua is always trying to carry the burden on his own, always acting like every wrong is his fault.

It's no surprise then that Aqua feels guilty over allowing himself to cherish Akane's support. It's also no surprise that he tries to paint it negatively as him "using" her, because Aqua has been trying to convince himself that his relationship with Akane is a lie.

If he repeats it enough, if he makes his every action about using Akane, then it will be easier for him to let go of her — even when that becomes the last thing he wants to do.

This all comes to a head in Chapter 98, where we see Aqua cutting ties with Akane to keep her safe. This was the perfect time to use Akane, for real this time — but "using" Akane has become a lie that he can't keep up any longer.

Akane has become too important to him. So important in fact, that leaving her side marks the moment he makes a wrong turn and gives himself into the darkness of his revenge.

TL;DR Aqua did want to use Akane, but he never gets around to it. He comes to rely on her emotional support and feels so guilty for it that he sees that as "using" her. Ironically, by the time Akane becomes the perfect "tool" for him to use in his quest for revenge, she matters too much to him and he lets her go to keep her safe. In fact, Akane only makes herself "useful" to him by pure chance! lol

#oshi no ko #aqua hoshino #akane kurokawa #kurokawa akane #aquakane #my aquakane meta #I hate hate hate the new tumblr editor #how dare it limit me to 30 images #fandom: onk #me: onk #I've played myself: I care about Aqua now #the way he continuously lies to himself is pretty engaging when you get down to it

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bracketsoffear · 1 year

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The Radiance (Hollow Knight) "The Radiance is one of the few higher beings / gods in Hollow Knight. It was previously the main higher being of the land know known as Hallownest. Then along came The Pale King. The Pale King buried The Radiance’s religious relevance with his own, becoming the knew main higher being of Hallownest. This! is because The Pale King was able to give the bugs thought, and let them have minds of their own instead of being savage beasts.

Also yes, every character in Hollow Knight is a bug. very corruption aligned as well.

Eventually, eons later, The Radiance came back, upset about being replaced. It brought about a mind-controlling plague known as The Infection. This was a mass breakout of a disease in Hallownest, which caused bugs to loose their minds and become obsessed with praising The Radiance. Not to mention the fact that orange sludge / goop drips out of the infected bugs in a really grotesque way. This is MULTIPLE elements of the corruption. Corruption of physical form, Corruption of thought, and religious corruption, as well as general themes of bugs. literally this entire game and franchise revolves around bugs.

The Pale King tries to fight back many times, sacrificing his own children and failing. By the time the player character arrives, The Knight/Ghost, Hallownest is already in a post apocalyptic state of infection, very few bugs with thought and true being remaining."

Bugsnax (Bugsnax) "The game starts with you finding out about the existence of Bugsnax: fascinating, mysterious and wonderful creatures of legend with big googly eyes that are shaped like food! They taste like the meals you imagine they do, but far better than it had ever been, satisfying you easily with a single one but still leaving you wanting more. As you progress, the inhabitants of the island where they're found ask you to find more and more of them to give them; they're enjoying them, and for each of them, these bugsnax signify something deeper than what it seems at first glance. It isn't just food: for some, they're like family; for others, they're mysterious creatures they grow obsessed to research about; and for others they're the sources of stability in their otherwise intensely unstable lives. One way or another, eating or just being near bugsnax can easily get a hold of you and make you completely dependent on them, making you believe they're the solution to all of your life's problems. The fact that by eating a single one it affects your body structure and turns your limbs one by one into food shaped skin also adds to the horrors that everyone seem to be too blind to, too focused on their own dependence as it builds and builds until, eventually, you're fully food shaped and then your body structure weakens, destroying you and turning you into another of the island's victims, and so become a meal of the meal you had been eating all along. At the end of the day, you find out what they really are: parasites, made in cute shapes with adorable or funny sounds for the sole purpose of convincing you to having them nearby, eat them, and so slowly build up to eating you from the inside out. You are what you eat, and all life is Bugsnax."

#corruption poll #the magnus archives #the corruption #hollow knight #bugsnax #poll

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prince-kallisto · 9 months

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Ramshackle Gravestones

Ramshackle Dorm has a fascinating connection to ghosts and the undead: from the haunted mansion look, three ghosts, and two gravestones…wait, gravestones? I just recently discovered the two gravestones at Ramshackle Dorm- I’m the type of person who misses obvious details like that haha. I heard other people say that maybe it was a Halloween decor choice, or something made by the ghosts to scare people off. After all, there’s a shovel right in front of the Ramshackle gates.

But look at Ramshackle dorm when it turns into the “Dazzingly Dapper dorm.” All renovated and shiny- the gate and stairways are all replaced with more elegant designs. However, the two gravestones still remain, are REPLACED with new stones, are given a more formal and respectful placing. The gravestones even have a separate path leading to them. And as we know, Ramshackle was under renovation for quite some time after Book 6 shenanigans, and Vil was definitely part of the designing process.

So why give such a prominent spot to *fake* gravestones? I personally think that these gravestones are the real deal. But not only because of this evidence, but because Ramshackle attracts the undead. Think of the three ghosts and Eliza from the Phantom Bride event- there must be an underlying reason that the dead are attracted to Ramshackle. But that’s where the bigger question lies: Who did these graves belong to?

Of course, that would be nearly impossible to deduct. There’s likely a whole slew of characters we haven’t been introduced to yet, especially now that we’re beginning to learn about Fae backstories. But I want to debate as many possible options to hopefully spark some ideas ^_^ Spoiler alert: none of these options feel convincing enough, but I think there’s a reason for that (more on that later)

-The Ghost trio: The immediate answer would be these guys, but why have only two gravestones instead of three, especially since the gravestones were replaced? I talked A LOT more about the ghost trio in my previous theory post, but all three died in their old age, none of them died as students.

-Eliza: Nope. Haha a little harsh, but she just didn’t meet any of the criteria for this one

-Portraits: In Ramshackle dorm, there are portraits of a woman, but I’m still not convinced that she has any relevancy other than just being a reference.

-Past NRC students: This seems like a possibility AT FIRST, but now we have to confront the main problem with these gravestones.

Look at the shovel, the haphazard placements of the gravestones, the unkempt the yard. Hell, just consider the fact that Ramshackle is ABANDONED. If it were past students, or meant to be a memorial for ANYBODY, why give them such disrespect? If a student ever died due to an Overblot tragedy or any other incident, there’s no way their graves would have become this disregarded- it’s highly unlikely that student bodies (no pun intended) would be buried on school ground in the first place!

Hm. Back to square one- or so I thought. Looking at both gravestones again, they seem to be unmarked. It would’ve been very easy to draw in a few squiggles or lines. If they’re not meant to be read, so be it, but why leave the graves unmarked?

After all, as we can see from the Halloween events, or even just the statues of the Great Seven, the graves are MARKED, despite being event background props

Graves were (and are left) unmarked throughout history for various reasons: Too many victims of disease, too poor to afford a proper memorial, or suggest that the person burying ISN’T worthy or memorial and respect.

Interesting 👀 We may be making some progress with that last point- and it may be the reason why Ramshackle was abandoned. Again, I talked more about it in my previous theory post, but the ghosts were definitely not the reason why Ramshackle was abandoned. If anything, it was a coverup for something big. After all, at least a hundred student have had to have been displaced, and new rituals would have been required.

Thinking more about the shovel and the crooked gravestones is interesting. It’s almost like the placement of these gravestones were rushed. And with Ramshackle being abandoned, no one would have to think about these gravestones. I feel confident that the graves were placed after the abandonment of Ramshackle dorm, because although the dorm has a very haunted look to it, it must have been completely different in its prime. No dorm would have a shovel lying in front of the gates!

Still, it’s bothering me that these gravestones were made on school grounds in the first place- unless the graves were related to someone from the school. Someone who wasn’t worth remembering- or perhaps their identity is kept secret for another reason entirely.

But there’s even more things that are bothering me. Let’s look at the graves once more: They’re different sizes. The one of the left is larger, the one of the right is smaller. And even with these renovations, the different sizes remain the same.

Is it perhaps implying that the one of the left was older, and the one of the right was younger? Like a child and an adult?

(*heaves in Revan/Crowley theories because what if it represents Mallenoa and Malleus because notice how the long is RIGHT NEXT TO THE GRAVESTONES in the Halloween event*)

Anyway, I still can’t think of the two possible victims, and they likely are people we haven’t met yet in the main game or are involved with the fall of Ramshackle. But I have one last desperate suggestion: What if the gravestones represent two people that haven’t died…yet? If the time loop theory is relevant, what if two key characters ended up dying from the monster in the prologue?

Edit: A comment or mentioned what if the gravestones were for MC and Grim 👀 the different sizing of the gravestones would make so much sense

AS USUAL I have no clue 🤩 At the moment, so much is kept in the dark, and literally all I can do is speculate and obsessively analyze everything. I feel like I’ve learned a lot about Ramshackle with these posts, even if we technically aren’t any closer to discovering the truth 🤣 I’d love to hear any suggestions and ideas, because I’m so lost haha

#twst #twst theory #twst ramshackle #twst ghosts #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland theory #twst book 7 spoilers #ramshackle dorm #KallistoPost

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comfortless · 1 month

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I have some thoughts about König I wanna run by you.

I really like the concept of him following rules to the letter, but not the intention.

like he would never steal from friends, but that only applies to items, job opportunities, romantic interests, and ideas don’t count.

he would never cheat on his lover, EVER! but…that doesn’t mean he can’t entertain thoughts of the nice recruit who for sure has a crush on him, he could lead her on just a lil bit, live off the attention when he’s deployed and claim ignorance if anything gets serious.

oh and he would never hit you, of course not! but if he got you riled up enough or angry enough to throw a punch his way he could hold you down and restrain you so you don’t hurt yourself, he’s not a monster for kind of liking how you struggle to break free from his grip, and he’s barely even exerting any energy, it’s a safe kind of powerplay to him.

ok i am listening and nodding my head yes!

König didn’t get the positive attention he so craved when he was younger, so any little bit of it he can grapple at is his for the taking. He’s a bit impulsive.

Mental health and repercussions are not at all relevant to him when he sees something that he wants and is within the realm of possibility for him to attain. He would have a sort of conniving way when it comes to going about these things, too. It isn’t intentional, but to him, his reasoning is absolute. Probably gets that from his father, but he prefers not to think of that.

He’s no master manipulator here, just a man that is very aware of his few talents. He’s not even good at telling a lie, far too blunt and always speaking the first thing that pops into his head.

There’s a promotion at work another operator is vying for? Well, he’s far more suited for it anyway— look at him. He’s big and good with his weapons, handles them nicely and can plow through an enemy with as much ease as he can a wooden door. His confirmed kills far exceed the number of things that his parents could find and scrape together and deem themselves proud of him for. König’s not entirely withdrawn, either, his people respect him. Some might even admire him a bit, wishing they had the things that he never even asked for: his height, the creepy look upon his face, his lack of hesitation when pulling a trigger or burying his hunting knife in another man’s guts.

They’re on good terms, still on good terms even after he presents his argument as to why he’s just that little bit more deserving. He doesn’t need to bring up his childhood or much of his past to anyone here, but he knows down to his very marrow that people tend to think there’s something off or wrong about him and in turn he’s met with pity or fear. He utilizes it, gets what he feels he deserves by coming off gruff and demanding, even whiny if the situation calls for it. Time and time again, he comes to realize it’s much easier and more rewarding for him to play people like toy soldiers in these situations.

He might not be able to get a girlfriend in any authentic way, but as Ghost said in her reblog here, I do think he would have at least tried a tryst with a friend’s girlfriend at some point. König could reason away any guilt. She came onto him, batting her lashes and wearing that low cut blouse while telling him about just how selfish her man/his friend was in bed. And when it ends terribly as these things do, he’ll learn his lesson well enough, gives some hashed apology over a pint of ale. It doesn’t mend a void, only forces another distance between himself and another person. König is more than used to that.

It is always the wrong thing said or done, always a ship with no harbor to dock. He would have friends, yes, but it’s up in the air as to whether or not any of them last very long. He’s self aware enough to realize that he creates these problems, that he could have just done x instead of y, but there’s this tentative, newfound pride wrought up within him that he doesn’t ever let go of. He doesn’t want to be seen as that weak little boy he once was. Apologies are like pulling teeth, even getting one from him is a big deal.

It isn’t his fault he didn’t get as much pussy as any other man and surely… any true friend of his would know enough about him to accept that he was not entirely the one at fault here. Richtig..?

He’ll be happy to take credit for a job well done. It wasn’t his idea to burst through that door and clear out a room of enemies, but he did the work. He deserves the praise, the increase in pay, whatever benefit he can gain from it. It didn’t matter that Fender barked out the order over the comms, warned his team of potential danger, what matters to König is that he got it taken care of with no casualties on his side.

New recruits come and go often, and more often than not, they’re horrified of this giant that outranks them. König still hasn’t mastered any way with women, but he’s been fortunate enough to land himself a sweet, cute girlfriend that waits for him at home. He’s not an idiot, either, knows a little romp at work isn’t worth a thing in comparison to her and would only add another fire to the desolate world he lives in in his head. His girlfriend’s the only garden he has, and he would rather damn himself entirely than ever see something he loves burn.

So, when one bold woman does approach him, placing her hand on his arm and complimenting his stature, he doesn’t feel a thing except some strange twist of pride.

He’s come a long way from the boy who was ridiculed and bullied relentlessly, worked himself tirelessly into becoming this broad mimicry of a god made flesh. But fuck. The attention is nice. He would compliment this recruit’s aim from time to time, pat her on the head like a good little dog when she takes out an enemy or stacks on extra work for herself. It never goes further than that, but she practically eats out of the palm of his hand, begging with her eyes rather than her voice to ask for a night with her colonel.

And when he’s on leave, and his girlfriend is asking why this woman is texting him so often, he shrugs and casually tosses her his phone. He’s got nothing to hide, hasn’t even entertained the thought of sleeping with this girl. If anything, she reminds him of himself before he ever got laid. That desperation is certainly there, and it does kind of unsettle him. Is this how he came off to women before…? A pitiful little thing that just wants to be loved and cared for?

He doesn’t even respond to the recruit’s messages, even when there are so many of them. He kisses his girlfriend everywhere, fucks her like it’s the first few times all over again, and falls asleep nestled up against her. There’s no room in his heart for anyone except the object of his affection, but a part of him does hope this lost little lady finds her own sliver of heaven too. He knows how she feels and hates the thought of making a woman cry outside of fucking her well. So he lets the recruit down easy next time they meet, tells her he doesn’t care for relationships at work, that he loves his girlfriend and he doesn’t want to hurt her. It’s spoken candidly, and doesn’t leave any room for discussion.

Shame about the lack of affection while deployed, but he’s managed on his own longer than most. He’s got an entire album of pretty photos of his girl in and out of the lingerie he bought for her to keep him company, anyway.

And admittedly, arguments with his beloved turn him on.

They both know that she can’t actually hurt him. When her hand is raised to give him a good slap for being a complete asshole over something as trivial as a cashier for accidentally ringing something up twice, he’s already hard. The grin on his face is nothing short of ugly, because he knows how this ends, the same way that it always does. He would take her wrist only after she’s hit him, let her stew in what she’s done, murmur her apologies through stilted breaths and lashes heavy with tears. She tells him she just doesn’t understand why he is the way that he is sometimes while trying to wrench her hand away from his grip.

He’s not rough enough to hurt her when the argument sparks up again, even guides her down onto the floor with a steady hand on her back while she pleads with him for answers that he just doesn’t have. He would go back to seeing a regular therapist for her, maybe. He would do anything for her and that’s just another thing that they both know.

“Heh… you like me crazy,” König would breathe into her hair when her thighs are locked around his middle. Poor thing can barely speak when she’s exerted her energy trying to best him in a battle she could never hope to win. She’s all whimper and no bite, nails raking over his shoulders with each slow, teasing thrust.

“Look at you.” He practically purrs when her face is taken into one callused palm, brought forward to lock eyes with him when the sounds spilling from her lips grow more needy. And then he gives her the fucking she deserves, rougher when she’s sighing his name and trembling from the residual waves of her own orgasm. It didn’t matter who was right or wrong anymore; argument long-forgotten, buried under a blanket of white heat. He chases his own end, lets her watch him unravel all for her as his seed fills her, spills out where they connect to make a mess of the carpet below.

He’s selfish in those ways.

#syl getting carried away again? imagine that!#Kö headcanons #<- i need to start tagging these! i keep losing ‘em!#as usual you lot are geniuses we are all sitting at the lab table constructing the most vile most perfect man

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mixelation · 3 months

Text

writing some dumb reborn au dialogue this morning

ninjacon 3!!!! (the one with X, a yellow flash cosplayer who is. very hot. in a hilarious way)

*****

“So,” Tori said, suddenly making direct eye contact with Minato, “were you into him?”

“...what?” Minato asked. Kakashi noted he still hadn’t taken a single sip of the drink in his hand.

“X,” Tori clarified. “Were you into him?”

Kakashi would admit it. The scandalized face Minato made at these words was hilarious.

“Why would I be into him?” Minato asked, sounding like Tori had just slapped him.

“We were debating your type,” Itachi said very matter-of-factly. Kakashi choked on his drink. “Since you made multiple comments about X’s attractiveness.”

“I’m married,” Minato said firmly, although his grip on his cup had tightened enough that the plastic was denting. “And your boss. Why are you talking about that?”

“You said you were off duty,” Itachi pointed out at the same time Tori said, “What does being married have to do with it? Kushina-sensei told us all about your hall passes.”

Say what you would about Team Disaster; their teamwork was terrifying.

“Hall passes?” Kakashi repeated.

“It’s a list of people a couple makes as ‘exceptions’ to their otherwise closed relationship,” Itachi explained, and Minato took a long, desperate sip of his drink.

“I know what it means,” Kakashi said blandly, even as he found himself unable to wipe the grin off his face. “Sensei, why have I never heard of your hall passes?”

“Why was Kushina talking about it?” Minato asked, sounding borderline panicked.

“It’s like her third favorite ‘girl talk’ subject,” Tori said. “You know about girl talk, don’t you?”

“She said girl talk was sacred,” Minato said in an oddly desperate voice, “and private.”

Kakashi had no idea what ‘girl talk’ was. He said this outloud. No one explained it to him.

“Tori didn’t tell me,” Itachi said. “I only know because girl talk is sometimes… loud.”

“He’s a horrible eavesdropper,” Tori said primly.

“Wait,” Kakashi said, louder this time, in an attempt to get the conversation back on track. “Is his list… consistent… with X’s appeal?”

“Not really,” Tori replied. “That’s why it’s weird.” She turned back to Minato, whose face was gradually turning pinker. “Well?”

“No,” he replied. “I just understand when cheekbones are beautiful, that’s all.”

They all took a moment to acknowledge that X’s cheekbones were, in fact, gorgeous.

“So what is your type?” Itachi asked in his unemotional Itachi voice.

This was truly a one hit KO. Instead of answering, Minato made a face like he’d been suckpunched and then took another long drink.

Itachi turned to Tori. “Then what’s the pattern?” There was a long pause. “Pale?”

“Pale?” Kakashi repeated. Who the hell was on this list?

“No,” Minato said.

“Are they all pale because he they’re redheads?” Kakashi asked, brain buzzing for memories of things Minato had listed about Kushina’s best traits.

“Please stop,” Minato whined.

“Now, now, Sensei,” Kakashi said, wagging his finger. “You said so yourself. This con is a safe space for bonding experiences, and we all want to know.”

Well, Kakashi wanted to know. He didn’t think this would be a strange thing for Minato to disclose to him, in private over drinks. It might be weird to tell Tori and Itachi, but they apparently already knew and had been analyzing it.

Minato buried his face in the hand that wasn’t holding his drink. He mumbled something.

“Sensei?” Kakashi repeated, now struggling to hold back laughter.

Minato leaned back against the bedframe, looking truly defeated. “Tobirama and…” he sighed. “Ame no Konan.”

Tori raised her eyebrows, expectant. Minato had left something out, Kakashi gathered.

“She already told you?” Minato asked, looking ever so slightly betrayed.

“I guess she thought it was relevant to my interests?” Tori hedged.

Minato groaned, his cheeks going pink again as he turned to Kakashi. “I recently added Akasuna no Sasori.”

He then tipped his cup back and finished it off. Wow.

The list was honestly only surprising to Kakashi in that he was surprised there was a list.

“He just likes strong people,” Kakashi told Tori and Itachi matter-of-factly. Next to him, Minato choked on the last of his drink. After a beat he amended, “Who are also hot, I guess. Except maybe Tobirama.”

“Tori said she would put him on her list,” Itachi said.

“Itachi,” Tori warned.

Minato grabbed for the bottle of whisky. Kakashi passed it to him. His dear Sensei could face down any physical threat, but this conversation apparently required alcohol.

“It’s good for couples to have conversations about things like this,” Minato said in an obvious attempt to shift the conversation back into his control as he poured way too much whiskey into his cup. “I’m glad you're communicating about your wants and needs.”

“So why add Sasori now?” Kakashi asked, and Minato shot him a very sad, very betrayed look.

“I didn’t realize he could… pose a challenge in battle,” Minato said slowly.

There was a very long silence in the room as Minato opened the soda bottle next.

“And he’s a redhead,” Minato added.

“You didn’t realize the guy who destroyed a country could pose a challenge in battle?” Kakashi repeated.

“It’s only a country on a technicality,” Minato said, waving his hand dismissively. “It was a city-state with a large civilian population. I never really got why everyone thought that was so impressive.”

There was another very long silence. Then Tori burst into laughter.

“What?” Minato asked, face going into an expression Kakashi might categorize as pouty. “I just like people who are on my level, physically and intellectually.”

“Why are your standards insane?” she wheezed. “You're so lucky Kushina-sensei likes you back.”

Yes, that expression was… pouting.

“They don’t have to be able to beat me,” Minato defended. “I just want to have to actually try.”

“Maa, you’re still lucky,” Kakashi drawled. “Name one other person your age in Konoha who fits that description.”

Minato stared at his drink. Kakashi swiveled his head to make eye contact knowingly with Tori.

******

i keep wanting to make a joke about how tori keeps referring to konan as "my wife" but idk how to do it without the vibe being like..... weird?

tori: i would put konan on my exceptions list too ngl

itachi: you said those lists were people where it would be unrealistic for you to actually hook up with them

kakashi: itachi, she's not ACTUALLY married to konan. you know that, right?

itachi: (dead stare) right.

#when will reborn au have Girls Night 2 #reborn au #my writing

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comicaurora · 1 year

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How do you ballance lore dumps and exposition. Whenever I see a friend ommiting a lore dump, it feels the rest of the story gets a massive plot hole, where if you state it later it feels like a lazy retcon.

I try to avoid lore dumps if possible, because they tend to feel like textbook reading and are very easy for me to skip over, leaving me subsequently confused when the information buried in the lore dump becomes relevant. In my experience, if the audience absolutely needs information in order for the plot to make sense, there are ways to communicate it in-story that aren't just a wall of text - even if it's just "letting a character deliver the wall of text in a way that works for them."

Lore dumps and "as you know" dialogue are frowned upon because they disrupt immersion, typically because they're a conversation between two characters who should both know this fundamental truth of their world and thus have no reason to state it plainly for a hypothetical third party. But there are plenty of ways to frame a conversation that communicate that information without having to go with "as you know-" or "we both know that-", like

A knowledgeable character explains to an ignorant character why the ignorant character's plan or idea won't work (so they have a legitimate reason to provide that information and the other character isn't just sitting passively and absorbing the information)

Two characters reminisce about a situation they both remember rather differently

A character makes an oblique reference to something without providing further detail (because why would they reference more detail when everybody present knows what they're talking about), and another character responds with a telling emotional reaction that tells the audience at least how they feel about that thing and implies more information about it (like that the thing was Very Bad And Upsetting, and maybe they'll even explain why if another character notices and asks)

Two experts in a fictional field get really into the weeds about how fascinating something they're working on is

Two experts in a fictional field have a furious argument about a disagreement they're having, dropping lore tidbits the whole time

An expert in a fictional field gets really excited about explaining something cool to anyone who'll listen

A villain monologues about the brilliance of their evil plan

Even in the space of exposition, there are ways to let a character's dialogue reveal key information without making it a wall of text, and it mostly centers around making the character want to provide that information, turning it into a character conversation rather than a hand-of-the-author situation.

I've also found that the process of planting and payoff can be strengthened significantly if the information planted is planted multiple times in different ways, rather than just being exposited. If a lore drop is necessary for a plot point to make sense, just saying it once and then leaving it alone will not necessarily work to get the audience aware of its true meaning, since until the information is actually relevant in the story the audience is liable to forget about it or file it very far back in their heads. Exposition and lore dumps need to be connected to something tangible in-story for the audience to get a feel for, or they're basically just more pointless flavor text.

For instance, when the mechanics of divine incarnations needed to be planted, I worked them in in a few different ways - first, showing it with no further explanation -

then showing it in a few different ways, establishing that the appearance of a god can change over time -

then showing that gods have a degree of direct control over their incarnation's physical appearance even outside of that -

all so that when a god did THIS, nobody was confused as to how.

Because it was kind of important that this scene hit the way I wanted it to. I needed the reaction of "OH SHIT" instead of "wait that's bs how did he do that" and that meant I needed the audience to have just enough intuitive understanding of what divine incarnations could and couldn't do for this to make sense.

It's a delicate balance, but in my experience a slow build is better and more effective than an all-at-once lore dump.

#asks #writing stuff

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from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras · 4 months

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I’m (maybe?) almost done with a Théodred story I’ve been working on for a long time and, in looking back over some of my notes about his canon life, I couldn’t help clocking the many similarities between his experiences and those of LOTR’s other first son of a kingdom of men, Boromir. It’s not super relevant to my story, but I ended up with this running list and I’m just sticking it here because why not. None of this is groundbreaking stuff (and there are probably more) but so far I have that Théodred and Boromir both:

1. Were heirs to the leadership of their respective realms and held their land’s senior military positions (Second Marshal for Théodred—there being no First Marshal at the time—and Captain of the White Tower for Boromir).

2. Lost their mothers early (Théodred at birth and Boromir at age 10) and grew up in households run entirely by powerful fathers who never remarried.

3. Ended up taking on dangerous challenges at least in part because those fathers were both having their reason and good judgment manipulated by opponents (Théoden through the treachery of Gríma/Saruman and Denethor by the selective truths shown to him by Sauron in the palantír).

4. Got killed in a battle where their opponents were targeting them to the exclusion of others around them (Saruman’s forces at the Isen were told to kill Théodred at all costs even while “disregarding” others, and the orcs at Parth Galen fire their arrows “always at Boromir” while leaving Merry and Pip untouched).

5. Were trying to summon aid at the time they were struck down (Théodred is shouting “To me, Eorlingas!” to summon reinforcements when he’s fatally wounded. Boromir blows his great horn to alert the rest of the fellowship before he’s brought down).

6. Took massive injuries but lived long enough afterward to pass on last words in which they invoke the names of the men who will come to replace them as leaders and express the hope that those next leaders will achieve victory (Elfhelm and Grimbold believe Théodred is dead before they discover he’s still breathing just enough to say, “Let me lie here to keep the fords til Éomer comes.” Boromir, as we all know, lays there with those arrows in his chest long enough to be found by Aragorn, at which point he says, “Farewell, Aragorn. Go to Minas Tirith and save my people.”).

7. Died within hours of each other (Théodred on the night on February 25 and Boromir around midday on the 26) at the same age of 41 because, oh yeah, they were also born within months of each other.

8. Didn’t get a burial/funeral in keeping with their status and the traditions of their people because they died in awful circumstances far from home (Théodred dies and is buried by Elfhelm and Grimbold’s companies at the fords rather than in the barrows outside of Edoras with his ancestors. Boromir is sent over the falls by the three hunters instead of laying in Rath Dínen with the other kings and stewards of Gondor).

9. Mentored and protected little brother-type figures (Faramir as Boromir’s actual little brother and Éomer as Théodred’s cousin/adopted little bro) who would go on to achieve what they were unable to do themselves while alive.

10. Died unmarried and childless despite being extremely marriageable, in the primes of their lives and presumably expected to produce another heir. (There’s an explanation given for Boromir—he’s not into women and prefers fighting and arms—though there is none for Théodred.) (Like many other people, I have my own personal HC for Théodred’s romantic life, but that’s for another day.)

I’m not sure what to make of all that, but I find it interesting. We hear so often about contrasts between Gondor and Rohan—the different histories and heritages, the personality of cold, hard Denethor against kindly, grandfatherly Théoden, the magisterial stone and marble of Minas Tirith versus the rustic wood and thatch of Edoras, Gondor’s vast libraries and the Rohirrim’s oral traditions—but they’re so deeply linked as kingdoms and as individuals. By fate and by choice, they’re inextricably tied together, and I love the amount of detail that went into creating and including the subtle parallels between the first sons of each land as just one more way to see those ties play out.

#lord of the rings #lotr #boromir #theodred #théodred #rohan #gondor #oath of eorl #first sons #shared histories

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offtorivendell · 4 months

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Will I hear the earthworms writhing through the soil?

Disclaimer: as usual, this is just a theory that makes no claim of being canon.

Spoilers: CC HOFAS spoilers below the break.

Something I've spoken about with a few friends - though I haven't posted it publicly yet, I don't think - was the possibility of Elain and Azriel having an Orpheus and Euridyce inspired journey as part of their adventure in their (still hypothetical 😭) book.

The following passage from ACOWAR is what made me begin to wonder if Elain might hear earthworms from within the soil at some point:

Elain only turned toward the sunny windows again, the light dancing in her hair. “Will I hear the earthworms writhing through the soil? Or the stretching of roots? Will the bird of fire come to sit in the trees and watch me?” - ACOWAR

Might she hear the roots and worms as they move around, poking through underground catacombs, searching for water(ways) deep within the ground?

Then I read HOFAS (or rather, I'm still reading it, but I need to post this to clear my mind and continue):

She said, if only to distract herself from the gross fauna of the stream, “Did the Fae make these tunnels?” A few steps ahead, Nesta said nothing. But Azriel, trailing behind, mused after a moment, “I don’t think so. From the consistent size of them, I’d guess that a Middengard Wyrm originally made these passages. Maybe it even used these waterways to get around.” - HOFAS

This makes me think I could be on the right track! That Elain and Azriel may actually get an Orpheus and Euridyce type journey - potentially with Elain leading and Azriel "trailing behind" - and they do go underground. If the Ouroboros is involved, needing to be collected from the Bone Carver's old cell in the Prison, I will be so happy. I want to know what Elain can do with her powers and that mirror combined!

Additional thoughts:

Instead of going underground willingly, might Elain be buried alive? (Sorry)

The Middengard wyrm was thunderously loud, so much so that it was mistaken for rushing water. Can Elain hear them pass under Velaris?

Middengard wyrm; midden = refuse pile; Midgard = the middle earth.

Do the worms originate in Midgard, as Bryce guessed? What attracted the Middengard wyrms to Prythian to begin with?

Do they use the underground waterways to travel further than elsewhere in Prythian? How much further? I know @ladynightcourt3 has had similar thoughts, and we think they might be able to pass between worlds.

How relevant is all the iron near the waterways? Does it help to ground or tether someone using the water to delve deeper into their powers?

Will the "glass coffin" reference from the Bryce, Azriel and Nesta bonus chapter come into play here, with either Elain or Azriel becoming trapped and needing to be freed? This could combine @elriell's Sleeping Beauty theory with the Orpheus and Euridyce mythology.

I'm only at chapter 17, so please don't mention any HOFAS spoilers yet!

#hosab spoilers #hofas spoilers #acotar cc tog crossover theory #elain archeron #azriel shadowsinger #elriel #elain's powers #middengard wyrm #hofas #crescent city spoilers #acotar 5 theory #acotar theory #pro elain #pro azriel

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inneedofsupervision · 3 months

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Hey Mister Villain

Finally, I can present you the long-awaited Sequel to No Spilling Secrets. I recommend reading No Spilling Secrets first, as that is relevant for understanding the context of this story.

Summary: After getting out of the claws of Clint, Bucky, and Sam, Peter can finally take a rest. Or can he? A single glance at Mr. Stark is enough to let the teen know his mentor waits for an explanation, and it better be a good one. He really should have thought about how to get out of this one, didn't he?

Read on Ao3

"Care to explain why you hacked Friday, Peter."

Oh fuck.

"Not the words I would use, but that sums it up well enough."

The words had tumbled out before Peter could stop himself. At least May and Steve weren't here to catch that slip-up. Mr. Stark merely raises an eyebrow, leveling the teen with a glance. The man is still waiting for an explanation that Peter is more than dreading to give to his mentor. Heck, Peter endured the dishing out of the bird bros and Bucky. He couldn't fold now just because Mr. Stark came off as a little intimidating. Speaking of Mr. Stark, said man stands stern-faced in front of him, arms crossed over his chest as he stares down at Peter in a voiceless dare to keep silent.

Okay, cross that. Mr. Stark is more than a little intimidating.

But still, Peter has come too far to spill. His mentor wouldn't let him live that down, not after creating a whole archive of Peter's embarrassing moments. It is pouring fuel straight into the fire.

Mr. Stark steps closer.

With one hand casually placed in the pocket of his three-piece suit while the other pulls down his glasses, the man glances over the rim. Peter gulps. He has to lean his head back to meet his eyes. Mr. Stark studies him for a moment, and Peter wonders what exactly the man is searching for when the sound of the man sniffing catches his attention.

Mr. Stark straightens, pushing his glasses back up.

"These three didn't manage to, but I know how to make you talk, Parker. Don't let it come to that." Peter lets out a huff in protest when his mentor suddenly pushes him, causing him to lie flat on the bench. The teen stares up at the older man in surprise before Peter's face contorts into a grimace as he finally registers Mr. Stark's words.

"You saw all of that?" Peter asks, hoping Mr. Stark would break out into that smug trademark grin, laughing as he pats him on the shoulder and tells him he was only messing with him. Mr. Stark, of course, didn't give Peter that. Instead, he is met with a slight tilt of the head as Mr. Stark gives him an unimpressed look.

"This is my tower kid. What did you expect?"

The vigilante lets his shoulder sag in defeat. Of course, Mr. Stark watched the whole spectacle. Where is that hole in the ground to bury yourself? It's never there when you need it.

A finger flicks against his forehead.

"Don't go all kicked-puppy on me, kid. You wouldn't be in this predicament if you hadn't cracked the tower's system and left a security breach as wide as the Brooklyn Bridge. You bought this on yourself."

"Maybe that wouldn't happen if there was a better security system," mutters the teen under his breath.

"Excuse me, what was that?" Peter's mouth shut instantly at the look Mr. Stark was giving him. How many times did he manage to piss his mentor off today? According to Mr. Starks expression, it was at least one time too many. Sensing that this wasn't going in a favorable direction, Peter made a drastic decision.

He needs to escape.

Now.

The man standing in front of the bench raises an eyebrow as the teen suddenly angles his legs up, bringing them close to his chest and bending his back, body forming an alarmingly accurate globular form. Without his trademark suit, the kid always seemed so inconspicuous it was easy to forget his powers and traits, counting in that inhuman flexibility. The kid tilts sideways, beginning to roll down the bench with an easiness that left the man wondering if Peter had done this before, the thought of that being a possibility alone giving him a mild headache.

"What- kid, you are not some overgrown roly-poly. What are you doing?"

Skillfully ignoring the bewildered tone of his mentor, Peter tenses his muscles while bracing for the fall, tilting his arms to avoid landing on his still-bound wrists. Mr. Stark takes off his sunglasses to pinch the bridge of his nose, tired of Peter's antics, before pocketing them in his breast pocket.

"Kid, you're not getting away without talking about this."

The older man rolls his eyes as Peter ignores him, the latter robbing his way forward on the floor, apparently on a mission to put the two super-soldiers in their team to shame. But it still wasn't quick enough. Peter wriggles forward as if his life depended on it, blatantly ignoring the pair of shoes moving at the same pace next to his head as Mr. Stark walks reversely next to him, hands folded behind his back as he looks down at the teen with mild amusement.

"Having fun, kid? How's the air down there?"

The engineer shakes his head when he doesn't get an answer, not even a sarcastic or snappy remark from his mentee. The latter keeps wriggling with a determined look towards the door still ten meters away. "And Rhodey calls me stubborn. Peter, kid, come on. Stop being silly."

"Upfh!"

A tiny yelp escaped Peter's lips when he fell forward, courtesy of the polished dress shoe that pulled on the leg he had put on the ground in an attempt to stand up, only to fall flat on his stomach.

"Come one, Peter. This starts to get boring, doesn't it."

The teen doesn't need to see the man know that Mr. Stark is most likely rolling his eyes at him as he continues ignoring him, only to further shuffle forward on the floor.

"Friday, be a dear and give me and Mr. Parker some privacy."

Peter couldn't decide what let his heart beat faster, Mr. Starks words or the faint click of the door locking shut.

"Mr. Stark!"

The boy's eyes widen as the dress shoe from before pushes under his stomach. He gets flipped onto his back, gazing up at Mr. Stark standing above him with a raised eyebrow and a corner of his lip turned up in unsuppressed smugness.

Peter sucks in a breath at the sight.

"Mr. Stark, you look like a supervillain right now."

The man's lips qurik up as he strokes his clean-cut goaty.

"If it takes a supervillain to end this nonsense, I might as well adapt to that role."

"Mr. Stark, no!"

It doesn't take a lot for the man to kneel and grab the squirming boy's wrists, pinning them over his head with one hand.

"Are you ready to talk, Spiderman?"

Peter feels the adrenaline kicking in as his lips twitch upwards in anticipation, his eyes focused more on Mr. Starks free hand than the man's face. Mr. Stark notices the glance at his hand.

"You see this, webslinger?" asks Mr. Stark with a cold-toned voice that Peter hasn't heard the man using with anyone other than the press on a few occasions when reporters ask some too-invasive questions. He had even pulled the purple-tinted glasses back out and put them on, jumping at the chance to act like an actual villain, and Peter could only stare up at the man, feeling flabbergasted.

Sure, Mr. Stark could act playful.

But those mods were usually portrayed through a headlock with an easy way out, hair ruffling, and tons of jokes and banter. Occasionally, Mr. Stark tickles him during movie nights when Peter gets a little too sassy for the man's liking, ending with the teen nearly rolling down the couch giggling. Those moments usually last only a few seconds before Peter crawls back on the couch with Mr. Starks arm thrown over his shoulder, leaning against the man's side. Therefore, it was hardly surprising that Peter was a tad perplexed at the threat of getting tickled by his mentor. The latter seemed overly confident in getting Peter to talk, which results in the teen being curious and absolutely terrified at once. At least Mr. Stark didn't have super hearing, or he might have known just how effectively nervous his words alone were making Peter, going by how his heart was racing behind his ribcage.

Unaware of the conflicting emotions Tony has caused to tumble around his mentee's head, he continues playing his villain act with a worryingly amount of perfection. The man holds his free hand up for the teen to see, moving his fingers down one after another in a quick motion like some cheap magician before pulling a bunny out of his top hat.

"This is the only tool needed to get you chirping, Spidey," continues the man, looking at his hand as if it were some weapon he had built and was particularly proud of. It leaves Peter gulping heavily.

"You might ask yourself why this," Mr. Stark waves with his hand, "is the way to break you. Well, let me elaborate, my wall-crawling little friend."

Peter opens his mouth to interrupt the cliche of the villain explaining his evil master plan in front of the bound hero. He gets silenced by a raised eyebrow and quickly clamps his lips shut, letting Mr. Stark have his moment.

"I happen to stumble over some interesting information about you, Spiderling. Some would even say it is a bit of a weakness."

Oh gosh, Peter didn't like the way Mr. Stark was grinning down at him at all. The hairs on his neck begin to rise at the sight. Although his subconsciousness was aware of the lack of a threat, Peter's brain couldn't stop the funny feeling of anticipation from accumulating inside him, leaving his muscles tense as he could do nothing but wait for something to happen. It feels like just before his spidey sense kicks in, but without the wave of anxiety rolling over him. At this point, Peter wishes Mr. Stark would get over it, but the thought of asking the man to do something leaves the tips of his ears red in embarrassment. He feels like a child all over again, becoming flustered over something silly, like the prospect of getting tickled.

"From what I gathered, there are parts of your body which, despite your genetic altering, are rather-" Mr. Stark leaves a short pause between the following words as his lip twitches upward into a smug grin, "delicate."

Mr. Starks free hand shots downward.

Peter presses out a squeaky "noho!" while bringing his legs up to his chest to block the attack, eyes squeezing shut on instinct.

But nothing happens.

Peter lingers in that curled-up position, opening his eyes slightly to squint over his knees. The teen meets the highly amused grin of Mr. Stark, who wears the same expression as he does when he gets the affirmation of one of his more advanced calculations being correct, an expression of pure smugness.

"A bit skittish, are we?"

Before Peter could even think of an answer, Mr. Stark's hand found a way between his pulled-up legs and his middle, fingers digging without hesitance into his stomach. The sudden attack caught Peter off guard, the laughter pouring out instantly.

"Mr. Stahahark! Thahahahat's plahaying dihirty!"

The man tilts his head at his mentees' words, the latter trying to press his knees closer to his middle, but that did little to hinder the man from tweaking his sides, grinning at the little shriek it earns him.

"Oh, I didn't know this counts as playing to you. Might as well as much as you are enjoying yourself."

"I'm nohoht enjohohyinh anythIHIHng!"

Mr. Stark rolls his eyes and switches spots, his fingers working quickly on the teen's stretched-out underarms. Peter kicks his legs out at the ticklish jolt when blunt nails softly scratch over the fabric of his shirt that does little to protect his sensitive armpits. His laughter changes into cackling, and he tugs on his bound arms, actually managing to bring them down.

He only hears the click of a tongue, having shut his eyes when his armpits got attacked. He rolls on his side as soon as the tickling stops, trying to escape the attack, but gets stopped by a hand on his shoulder, effortlessly pulling him onto his back again. Not a second later, two hands are shoved up into his underarms, and begun to explore the spot, meticulously working on searching for weak spots. As soon as he found them, Mr. Stark kneads with his thumbs into the muscles, letting Peter jump with a squeak before bursting into another wave of loud laughter.

"NOHOO PLEAHAHASE! MR. STAHAHAHARK. Nohohot thehehere! I- I canahahan't ahahaha. I cahahahn't staAHAND ihiht, pleahashe nohohho!"

"That's unfortunate, as I don't show mercy to any of my enemies. And you, Spiderman, earned the privilege to stand on the top of my hit list."

He grins down at the teen who has his arms pressed to his side as much as his tied wrists allow it, body wriggling from side to side to avoid his hands, but Tony's fingers are following, never leaving up to pinch and flutter over all the places that bring out the sound of panic-laced giggles.

"No! No! Nonononono! ACK NOHO MR. STAHAHARK, NOHOHOHO!"

"Hm? What's this? Spiderman has a ticklish belly?"

Peter manages to sends a glare at his mentor. "I doho nohoht! J-just l leahaheve ihit alohohohne. Mr. Stahark, I sweaAHAHR, I- ohmygohohod dohohohnt!"

Peter lets out a high-pitched squeal as a finger dips into his belly button. His laugh goes silent for a few seconds, during which he arches his back as the ticklish feeling overwhelms him before he deflates into a heap of hiccupy giggles, begging Mr. Stark to do anything but please let his belly button alone. The man smirks down at the blushing teen. Tony would lie if he said he did not find Peter's reaction absolutely endearing.

"Now, that's just adorable. I almost feel bad having to end you."

"Youhuhu ahahre eheh- evil!"

"I beg to differ, Spidey. This -" Tony worms his finger into Peter's navel, wriggling it around teasingly and earning himself a snort followed by feet drumming against the floor behind him as the kid trashes around madly

"isn't evil. I'll show you what's really evil."

Out of breath and lying on his side, Peter, at first, didn't register what was happening, too busy to get back to pumping air into his lungs. When he finally glances up at what Mr. Stark is doing, the man is already gathering his feet in a headlock and pulling his tie around his ankles. Peter's eyes widened. He was about to yank his legs out of the hold, and he certainly would have managed to, but at that moment, Mr. Stark had already tightened the piece of clothing, successfully binding his legs. After giving it a closer thought, Peter's panic begins to subdue. A tie was no match for his strength. He could easily snap it if he wanted to.

"Before I forget it, that tie is a Christmas present from Pepper's parents."

Mr. Stark broke out in loud laughter at the sheer look of betrayal Peter sent his way.

"You are a monster, Mr. Stark."

Peter regrets the words as soon as his mentor grins at him before pushing him over, forcing the teen to lay on his stomach and pull his feet facing upward onto his lap.

"Finally, you are aware of the gravity of the situation, Spidey."

While talking, he let a single finger run down the arch of Peter's foot, grinning at the teen's toes curling up and the whole-body jolt the action brought. He repeats the action on Peter's other foot, getting the same reaction, which only encourages the man to let all his fingers, at once, drag over the wiggling soles. The feet in his lap squirm just as the rest of the teen trashes on the floor like an angry caterpillar, laughing his head off, occasionally shrieking when Tony pulls his toes back to scribble under them.

"NO! Nohohot the toes! Pleahase, anythihing buhut thahat."

Mr. Stark let up, giving the teen a short break.

"Not the toes, you say? Do you mean these toes? These ticklish little toes right here?" He takes one of them between his fingers, shaking them a little while speaking, but that is apparently enough to throw Peter into a giggle fit and try kicking him.

"Well, then I have to let these toes be. And tickle these instead."

True to his word, Mr. Stark left Peter's right foot in peace, only to jump onto the left one, resuming his relentless attack.

"ACK! I sahahaid NOT the toehes!"

"And since when do I listen to what my enemy tells me? Huh, Spidey, since when do we do that?" he teases the kid, letting up from his feet to pinch above his kneecaps. Peter shrieks and kicks his legs out as he laughs loudly, managing to roll onto his back. He quickly sets his legs up to press his soles against the gym floor, preventing Tony from getting a hold of them.

"You're trying to be smart about this? Well, what do you do about this then?"

Without pausing, Mr. Stark takes hold of the teen's wrist and softly but firmly presses them against the teen's chest to get them out of the way before pulling his shirt up, revealing his tummy.

Peter's eyes widen. He couldn't move much with his feet sticking to prevent whatever Mr. Stark was planning. He had an idea, but surely Mr. Stark wouldn't do something as childish as that.

Right?

Peter screams before hysterical giggles take over after the first raspberry is placed on his stomach.

"Nahaha, stahahahap. Nohot fahair, ihihihi thihihs isn't fahahahahair Mr. Stark!"

"Anything is fair in a fight with your enemy. Even this."

Mr. Stark places another long-lasting raspberry, making sure to shake his face into Peter's stomach as that elicits just the most adorable squeal he had ever witnessed from the teen.

"Now, what do you say, Spidey? Are you ready to fess up?"

Mr. Stark takes in the sight of his red-faced mentee with something akin to fondness. Peter's hair is messy from shaking his head from side to side, his chest heaving from laughing, and a wide grin spreads over his features. The teen surprises him as he squints at him from a position on the ground, a determined look on his face.

"Is that all you've got?"

Mr. Stark raises an eyebrow.

"Well, you brought this on yourself."

His head rushes down again, sending the teen into another ticklish frenzy. By the end of it, tears of mirth are gathering in the corner of Peter's eyes, which were Tony's clue to give up. Apparently, Peter didn't think his mentor would give up just yet, as he couldn't believe it when his hands and feet were free to move again.

"You're letting this go?" Peter stares wide-eyed at his free hands before directing his puzzled look at Mr. Stark, who flattens the wrinkles in his suit.

"As you are so determined to not let a word lose about it, I will let it slide." He sighs at the bewildered expression Peter sends him.

"I trust you, Peter. Whatever you have done must have been important, and I trust you would tell me if it wasn't, alright?"

Oh wow, now Peter feels like an idiot.

"Ehm, Mr Stark?"

The man in question glances at the teen, the latter rubbing the back of his neck with his eyes cast on the ground. Peter pulls his legs to his chest, biting on his lips as he wraps his arms around his knees, wanting nothing more than to be swallowed by the ground. He made such a big deal out of nothing, and now he has to admit to that and no other than Mr. Stark too.

His fingers tighten into the fabric of his pants before he finally finds the courage to confess to the man.

"I did it because I was embarrassed."

The words came out mumbled as Peter pressed his face into his knees.

"I didn't quite catch that, Peter."

Using his name and not some nickname meant Mr. Stark had caught onto the mood. The man slowly steps closer, making only a bit of a show of sitting beside Peter and muttering about his joints.

Peter licks his lips, glancing at Mr. Stark before directing his eyes onto a stain on his jeans before repeating himself.

"I was embarrassed. Do you remember that folder, emh, the- the one where you let Friday save all that dumb stuff that I did? In the lab? Well, I know you like to tease me about that, and I usually don't mind, and I don't want to come off as whiny. I know everyone teases everyone on the team, and that's cool, yeah. But, you know, sometimes, I-" Peter stops to take a deep breath. Mr. Stark keeps sitting next to him, listening in silence, and while Peter is thankful for it, he still can't look at the man.

"Sometimes I get this fear that you'll show that stuff to the others, and they'll make fun of me. I know that shouldn't bother me. I'm not a little kid or anything. But this stuff that happens in the lab, I don't mind you seeing me do dumb stuff because, well, that's you Mr. Stark, and I trust you, like sure you'll think I'm silly, but when it's you, I kinda don't mind that? But if the others know I blow up the lap three times a week, that makes me kinda uncomfortable because everyone always calls you, Dr. Banner, and me the smart ones, but what will they think of me when they see all the messes I produce daily? I'm supposed to be smart and not blow stuff up and- and stumble over stuff when I'm literally Spiderman and yeah, I guess I'm insecure about that. I'm really sorry I hacked into Friday to prevent more footage from being taken, Mr. Stark. That was dumb, and I should have known that it was a bad idea, really."

Peter lifts his head, finally meeting Mr. Starks eyes, who had been patiently waiting for him, witnessing him stumble over his words.

"I'm really sorry, Mr. Stark." Peter's voice grew quiet, close to a whisper.

He watches Mr. Stark running a hand over his face, a sigh escaping the man, and it causes Peter to tighten to hold on to his knees. He is taken by surprise at the weight of an arm thrown over his shoulder before he gets pressed into a warm body, melting into Mr. Starks side as the older man pulls him closer.

"Peter, I want to apologize for making you feel that way."

Peter opens his mouth to protest but gets cut off by a hand squeezing his shoulder.

"Uh uh, broadcast break for the Spiderling." The teen huffs in light amusement, and Tony takes it as his sign to go on.

"I want to apologize for taking it as far as it causes you to feel like you had to do something on your own rather than talk to me about it. I would have never shown it to anyone, but I should have considered that it could make you uncomfortable. I'll delete everything and stop Friday from saving further videos, alright?"

"You would do that for me, Mr. Stark?"

"Of course. I might be an asshole most of the time,"

"Language."

Tony raises an eyebrow at the rude interjection. His hand slips down to poke the teen in the side as a warning, which earns him a giggle.

"but I want you to feel comfortable and know you can trust me. That you can trust anybody on the team, okay?"

Peter nods with a small smile playing on his lips.

"Hey, Mr. Stark?"

"Yes?"

Peter grins up at the man.

"I'm really glad you're not a villain."

Mr. Stark squints at him before a sly smirk appears on his face.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Peter. We still haven't talked about the consequences of you creating a giant security breach."

Before Peter could crawl away, Mr. Stark had already slung an arm around the teen's middle, and for a third time that day, Peter's laughter echoed throughout the gym, this time a little brighter than before.

#marvel tickle fic #ticklish! peter parker #ticklish peter parker #tickling #marvel fanfic #marvel #peter parker #spiderman #tony stark #iron man #lee peter parker #ler tony stark

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thevelaryons · 7 months

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Wait, what do you mean Laenor and Addam are "possibly implied to have the same sexuality"?

So this idea is based off GRRM's tendency to repeat/recycle certain themes for characters from the same family. Seriously, just look at any Westerosi family we get extensive details about and you'll see that GRRM employs this writing method quite often.

As I was saying in this post, Corlys' children are juxtaposed against each other: Addam to Laenor and Alyn to Laena. Fire & Blood makes it evident enough that Laenor is a gay man and with how he shares other parallels with Addam, the nature of their sexuality might be something they also have in common. Now obviously take this with a grain of salt because Fire & Blood tends to be ambiguous in how it presents information. I know there are people in fandom who consider Laenor to be bisexual though I personally (as a bisexual person) don't see it. I've always interpreted him as a gay man. We're given plenty of relevant information concerning Laenor's relationships to other men to reach this conclusion (he's described as preferring the company of exclusively men over women and the overall depiction of his relationships with Joffrey & Qarl all emphasize his homosexuality).

As for Addam, the text does present his "interactions" (using that term loosely) with other male characters in a certain light that leaves room for interpretation.

This moment with Benji having Addam's body taken to Raventree Hall (instead of returning him to Driftmark 😒):

At moonrise the riverlords abandoned the field to the carrion crows, fading back into the hills. One of them, the boy Ben Blackwood, carried with him the broken body of Ser Addam Velaryon, found dead beside his dragon. His bones would rest at Raventree Hall for eight years.

mirrors a similar moment with Loras & Renly, a gay couple:

“I buried him with mine own hands, in a place he showed me once when I was a squire at Storm’s End. No one shall ever find him there to disturb his rest.”

And it's not until 8 years after Addam's death that Benji actually returns his body back to Alyn who seems to have discovered the whereabouts of his brother's body at last. Now I doubt Benji just forgot he was keeping Addam's body back home. At the end of the war, he spent some time around Corlys, years later he and Alyn were together in the Vale, and even after that, they went on their road trip to King's Landing together. But it's not until some more years have passed that Benji finally returns Addam's body to his family. I just find his behaviour suspicious tbh. How do you forget you're keeping someone's dead body at home when you're spending considerable time around that person's family members?? All those chances Benji had to mention that Addam's body is with house Blackwood and he doesn't say anything until 8 years later when Alyn seems to have found out this information and gotten his brother's bones back. Putting aside my personal fave headcanon of Addam actually surviving Tumbleton and residing at the Isle of Faces for those 8 years, Benji's behaviour presents a parallel to that of Loras who buried his lover, Renly, and refused to divulge that information to anyone.

Then there is also the "mating dance" of Addam's dragon Seasmoke with Tessarion, ridden by another male, Daeron Targaryen:

One such said afterward that the flight of Tessarion and Seasmoke seemed more mating dance than battle. Perhaps it was.

Also this passage:

Who can know the heart of a dragon? Was it simple bloodlust that drove the Blue Queen to attack? Did the she-dragon come to help one of the combatants? If so, which? Some will claim that the bond between a dragon and dragonrider runs so deep that the beast shares his master’s loves and hates. But who was the ally here, and who the enemy? Does a riderless dragon know friend from foe?

The books do emphasize the close ties dragonriders have to their dragons (eg. when a dragonrider is hurt their dragon expresses the pain). Even such things as dragons mating with other dragons is only presented in 2 other instances:

Silverwing and Vermithor oft coiled about one another in the fields south of Tumbleton.

Rhaenyra’s dragon Syrax laid several clutches of eggs, doubtless the result of matings with Caraxes.

In all of these instances, the dragons are bonded to riders who are linked together (whether platonic or romantic): Jaehaerys & Alysanne were a married couple, Hugh & Ulf are also presented as a united front every step of the way in the books, Daemon & Rhaenyra are another married couple. So going off that pattern, Addam & Daeron's dragons having a mating dance would suggest a link between them too, either as allies or lovers. Since Addam torched Daeron's entire camp, I very much doubt they were allies. Though the lovers angle doesn't really work in this scenario either. The more likelier interpretation would be that of ex-lovers who knew each other before the war, hence the quote about the dragon sharing the rider's loves and hates.

Going back to my above linked post which you were inquiring about, Addam & Laenor having the same sexuality and yet being different in how they approach their positions as Corlys' heirs does present an interesting dichotomy. Because Laenor, due to his sexuality, does not fulfill the expected duty required of someone in his position (which btw I don't hold against him; I think Laenor exerting autonomy over his own life despite the closeted society he lived in is a great character detail). Meanwhile, Addam is described as "duty bound", so in this interpretation of him being attracted to men, despite his sexuality, he would be someone who always puts family expectations over his own wishes. That would primarily be due to his background as an illegitimate child but it does serve to contrast him once again with Laenor who grew up as his father's trueborn son.

#asoiaf #addam velaryon #laenor velaryon #laenor & addam #benjicot blackwood #addam & ben #daeron targaryen #addam & daeron #meta #ask

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