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precious-little-scoundrel · 5 months

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My Mother’s Child

Fandom: House of the Dragon, GRRM’s Fire and Blood

Pairing: Alicent Hightower x Aemond Targaryen

Summary: im a sucker for any GRRM universe and setting but after the recent release of the trailer for House of the Dragon’s second season I can’t quite contain the muses. So here is my self indulgent spillage of thoughts i entertained while watching the first. Perhaps growing up obsessed with Greek Myths, Shakespeare Anti-heroes and Renaissance families took its toll on my moral fascinations but the minute I see a codependent dynamic in a brutally restricted society I go a little nutty on the psycho-analysis and then it turns to feelings and then it turns to fiction.

Timeline: I’ve entirely had my wicked way with events and outcomes, nothing is critically pertinent but Aemond’s time in the Riverlands is changed, the time of Maelor’s birth is fudged, Aemond doesn’t die but is recalled to be regent again after Aegon’s demise, I’ve really no clue which of the Blacks are alive but the gist of it is the war has gone in favor of the Greens for the most part and now Aemond can come into his Crafty Uncle Richard III Regent era while obsessing over his pretty mom. Cheers.

Authors Note: im in no way romanticizing or advocating for the universe typical incest, warped relationships, casual murder, deranged intentions or the dire outcome portrayed of a stunted mother’s dependence on her worrisomely dependable son. Not proof read, have mercy on my tired eyes. Specific warnings below the cut:

Warnings: 18+, dead dove do not eat -thematically disturbing. An exploration of Alicent’s dependence on Aemond during his regency and beyond, undertones of attraction on Aemond’s part and submission to him on Alicent’s, combined with their delusional domesticity by coparenting little Maelor may disturb some. There is some physical touch that Aemond makes weird, his impure thoughts that are blamed on Targaryen tendencies, his recollections of sleeping in her bed as a child, him fucking Alys Rivers and imagining his mom sorta? along with sending Alicent his cum stained letters, calling Maelor “their boy” as if they are his parents, open ending suggesting a potential escalation in the dynamic. I tried to keep this as in character as possible so these warnings sound far more stark and crass than I hope the actual fic reads

It was Aemond sent to fetch his wayward brother, it was Aemond relied upon to soothe his sister, it was Aemond who absorbed Ser Criston Cole’s teaching, it was Aemond who stood any chance of gaining Otto Hightower’s commendation and through it some crumb of praise for the produce of poor, weary, teary eyed Alicent Hightower.

It was little more responsibility for Aemond Targaryen to quickly become the closest thing his mother had to a bosom friend by the time of his maturity, easily adding so weighty a role to those he already held as Lord Regent, terror of the realm, kinslayer and learned heir. It came as naturally to him as had filling each of its predecessors.

Whatever hopeless compulsion, dragon bound and magic made, to be loyal to his family that already ran in his poisoned blood, it was only ever magnified by the sight of his mother’s dutiful martyrdom, year after year bleeding herself out -and all the while not a soul to staunch the wound but him. Surely her husband the King only made it larger with each neglect or attention he paid her, and Aegon had long since been the sour fruit of a painful initiation. Helaena for reasons as gentle as they were cruel could not bear her own mother’s company -nor was the realm that sweet daughter lived in that of the Seven Kingdoms, where Alicent spent her every waking moment dwelling on and maneuvering for her boy King. Helaena lived in dreams and lived to avoid dreams and all Alicent had were harsh realities and dreams so trodden under the march of time that they resembled very little to their former selves by the retelling.

Aemond lived in the bridge between the two women of his house. There were dear to him the cherished traditions of Old Valyria and also, there were crucial to him the pressing matters of harvest and uprising and famine and the throne of Westeros.

He too lived in the Seven Kingdoms, he was practically their king, and like the manner in which he had long led this family by innate authority, such a role came naturally to him, as did sitting by the hearth in his mother's antechamber each evening, a recreation of the way he had stayed with her night after night in the wake of Driftmark, and discussing with her the petitions of the day, outcomes whose decisions needed making before dawn and hopes for the future.

Aemond felt close to her then, and dismal though the Kingdom’s prospects often felt, between the two of them there was calm in these moments. For once in his life Aemond did not find himself chafing under its soothing influence, but instead he would match her in her reclining, legs spread wide in his chair and silver head tilted to rest on the gilt chair, their hands near to brushing and let the connection grow until he wondered if he too were a dreamer and could know her inner thoughts, know her bewilderment and also her relief when he took from her the weight of the day with his sober companionship.

It felt odd parting in the evenings after these talks, what had once been a ritual of her comforting his painful wound in his youth and holding him close through the nighttime terror now felt necessary to be repeated as cure from her own dejection. Only her last remaining grandson Maelor provided some support to Alicent, she herself a child grown old using her own children to soothe herself.

Aemond saw to it that Maelor was brought often to their evening chats, a docile boy with an intense interest in blocks, he was no distraction from their more weighty discussions but when the evening grew late and the moon high and Aemond’s better judgment waned at the soft sight of his mother’s tender form and unguarded appreciation for his presence by her side, there was Maelor to place in her arms in instead of himself, and there was Maelor to pat her arms and lay upon her breast and enjoy the uncomplicated devotion of a mother that Aemond had never known.

Perhaps if his father the King had even once played the role of father, Aemond would not have spent his childhood clasped to that soft bosom while pretending he were the one being comforted by it and not her. He was older now and he had read of such dynamics, he had read of myths and scandals, Maester’s studies of the codependent phenomenon that blurs the line between each familial role. Childlike herself, his mother deserved not another man to have designs on her but a child, a true child she could dote upon and cuddle at night and a good son to tell her,

“You are weary, come, I’ll walk you to bed. Nevermind his blanket, I have it.”

and so it was Maelor who lay with her, Maelor who delighted her, Maelor who took up the space that had last been Aemond’s under her left arm. Only Aemond now allowed himself the task of tucking the furs about them both and stroking the tear tracks off her cheek, leaning down to kiss her forehead as she had dreamed of her own father doing. And then, Aemond betook himself to his own chambers laden with her burdens and his own and fell into the bedding with pleasure in his heart at having been entrusted with the wearisome load.

It continued thus in a pleasurable routine until the Riverlands called for his attention. Aegon was propped up, scarred and dim, on his neglected throne and Alicent was made Protector of the Realm and immediately thereafter Aemond found himself in the courtyard, Vhaegar waiting for him to mount and lead the reinforcements.

As Aemond pressed his thin lips to mother’s forehead in farewell for the duration of a long campaign, little Maelor who was in her arms laid hold of Aemond’s silver locks and seized them tightly during the moment between mother and son, holding the prince hostage a bit longer, for a moment nearer,

“dada.” -the infant nephew babbled to his uncle Aemond for a kiss of his own and to judge by Alicent’s alarmed expression, Aemond’s enforced separation from this little family they had made of a year’s evenings could not have come a moment too soon.

It haunted him, that flash of horror on his mother’s face at an infant’s small confusion. It brought back a seething reproach against her for all the times she’d never understood him, all the times she had raged against his very nature as a Dragon, holding him up with disgust and pride all at once until his head spun with it and he had learned to dance to her every whim, now the devout follower of Old Town and now the noble Dragon whose rights were being denied.

But woe to him should he be one or the other when it did not suit her. She thought his innate longing for a dragon to be imbecilic when he was young and yet she glowed with pride when he called out those Strong bastards for being anything but pure blooded dragons themselves.

As always with her duty, she hated herself for its outcome yet chose to cloak herself in pride for her sacrifices. His very existence, those of his siblings too, was sacrifice, his very bloodline and nature was an abomination against her faith, his impulses were beastly however much he took her principles to heart, and his tastes remained strange no matter how stifled her own had long remained.

But she had made him. How dare she be repulsed by her own creation.

Prince Aemond’s ire burned through him and suited the needs of war far better than kinder feelings of pining for hearth and home, so he stayed angry with his mother at each hack and hewing of his blade, each swath of farmland he burnt and every ill organized column of traitor levys he annihilated.

Capable, he is the capable son and his mother writes to him thanking him for it and he crushes the missive in his hand before regret surges after and he strokes the parchment flat again on his desk with all the revernace of a lover for his beloved’s skin.

He is kinder the parchment than he is to Alys Rivers.

Alys who is older and smart and wicked, who never once flinches at his nature, who accepts the ruthless pace of his hips and the mauling of his mouth with her own vigor, Alys who he swears to himself is a wartime necessity, the humors most flow somewhere and if he is to bleed he must also spill and she is there and trustworthy and her aura reminds in the moments after pain, warm arms holding him tight on his right side lest he roll on his wounded eye in sleep. The eye does not throb in that raw way any longer, it is a dull and perpetual ache he can expect to remain with him for all time, but the longing for such comfort remains and he lays atop Alys’ matronly breast often for longer than his daylight-sobered self can countenance.

He writes of her to his mother, to grieve her with his sin as much as not to withhold anything from her, he has not before and why should he now? Her reply is stifled and terse in regards to his admission, barely even a line and he must squint to decipher wether it pertains to the subject he is most anxious to hear from her about. But as he thumbs the well familiar scrawl of her pen he can imagine the set of her mouth and the pleading of her eyes, so different from true distress, no, instead it is the girlish patheticness she plays at, despite its lack of success all these years and how the same years have robbed her of the youthful vulnerability that once made men take notice of it.

Only Aemond remains affected by it, and he finds it so deliciously false that he teases it out of her as a treat for himself on occasion. Aegon may have it whenever he sees fit, though being a fool he thinks every crease to her forehead is that of genuine concern. Aemond’s knows her better than that, and sees her pouting eyes come through the written admonition to “keep himself in good company”.

He smirks at Alys when she enters his tent and finds him rolling up the motherly advice. He ploughs her atop the volumes of communication his dear mother has sent him during this campaign and the parchment he sends back to her with his report next morning is stained.

Aemond doesn’t need to hope that she smells his letters for sweat and smoke the same way he smells hers for rosewater and thyme. He knows she does, he has caught them under her pillow and in her pockets when returning to the Keep, time and again, without warning. He knows she prays for him to outlive them all and he knows she will kiss the stains she mistakes for tears. A holy horror fills him at the satisfaction that thought brings, and after it has taken root he cannot find it in himself to enjoy Alys’ cheerful vigor any longer or the dark appetites they once shared. She is too eager, she is too unabashed, there is too little shame for his taste.

Alys is a whore and Aemond longs for the droopy eyed piety of his mother’s face when he tucks her abed, the melancholy contentment of his dutiful care for her and the mislaid trust that she has domesticated her little dragonling to the faith of the seven, her plaint limbed trust that the Warrior and Mother would never meet in the throes of burning want that consume him.

When his task is done, or near to done in these rebellious lands, and a call comes of his brother’s failing health, Aegon mounts Vheagar a disillusioned man, flying high and away above the wreckage he has committed and leaving behind the last Strong bastard dead as promised.

Alicent’s son is a man fully grown when he alights in the courtyard, long limbed and toned from his wartime deprivations, the set of his jaw remains firm but his gait is looser, there is a confidence in bloom now that was only budding before he left. Alicent cannot hide her joy at seeing him again, her pace is faster than is strictly proper as she breaks ranks of the welcoming party to greet him -it is her right as reigning regent.

As his mother.

She clasps his hands and feels his strong fingers engulf her forearms, tugging her nearer in an almost playful fashion -the action suits his new demeanor of confidence but it hardly suits the action of a son greeting his mother.

“Muña,” his rich voice murmurs to her as he stares down at her with not a bit of the usual softening in his sharp features, his lips quirk and his eyes sharply plumb through the depths of her own, “I am come home, as you asked.”

Unnerved by his intensity, Alicent gives him a trembling smile, watery eyes darting from one dear feature in that ethereal face to the next -it is the war terrors, perhaps, that have him so ardent in his tone and grip, men often come back from battle strung taut.

“Then we are safe.” she sighs, meaning it for their family even as her own heart quickens in vague misgiving.

“Maelor?” he questions, not even bothering to ask after the current king, his blood brother, it is the infant he has already fashioned into a surrogate son that interests him now.

“Is well.” his mother glows at the mention of the babe, “Growing and talking more each week.”

“And his mother?” Aemond asks with a soft light in his face as he ducks to meet her eye to eye, and Alicent knows he does not mean the poor Helaena gone mad in the tower, he means Alicent.

“Well enough.” She insists with all the age-old weariness that suggests, and is meant to inform him, otherwise.

Aemond’s jaw ticks in recognition of the old habit, his mother lies often for so pious a woman and she manipulates even more frequently for so devout a defender of the truth. It is a child’s tactic and he knows it, and that fury over it that had filled him in his days in the Riverlands surges back in another form, he feels a superiority in that moment even as he is being played by her weary pout and soft hands.

It is a woman’s way of asking a man to carry her load, to disarm her of her duties, to take from her the pretense of capability and taste for ruling.

Aemond’s conflict for such a role died somewhere with Alys in the Riverlands, by his own hand, in his own bed, his mother’s last letter dancing before his sightless eye. It is with confidence and entitlement that he glides his hands down her shapely arms and takes her hands in his, weighing them between them as she watches in surprise. He thumbs over the knuckles before splaying them out in his much larger palms and running a forefinger over the mangled cuticles.

“Mmm, not well enough for my liking, judging by this.” he remarks and when she goes to snatch the evidence of her worry away he clasps them stronger until it is an undeniable struggle for her to take them back -one he denies with an iron grip and a patronizing smile that she has only ever seen Aegon receive from him. “Those days are over, munta, we will have peace and plenty now.” he drags her stiff arm through his own and turns them towards the entrance of the Keep, patting the sore fingers laying on his arm, “And I’ll have no more of…this.”

Dazed, Alicent allows him to lead her through the great doors and into the colossal tomb that has been her children's home, she stares up at the familiar face of her third born in the light of the grand hall’s torches and marvels at the comfort one existence can bring another. Just as she fears the firm hold on her hand and heeds the temptation she feels to obey a man child she should be governing. These thoughts are put to flight when Aemond halts and turns to her warmly, no sneer remaining and no cold authority left when he whispers excitedly,

“Will you take me to our boy?”

The instant awareness of his meaning, that he means his nephew, that he means her grandson, that he means the future king, that he means Maelor -it sickens her how natural her impulse is to smile back at Aemond’s oddly paternal expression, to lead him back to her antechambers and reunite the little family they made before the war called him and that witch possessed the son Alicent had so lovingly made pure and noble in her belly. It is balm to hear him grown and saying that they are one again, that she is paramount in his life once more, that together they have made something gentler and better than any bastard lovechild conceived in wartime.

“Come.” Alicent urges her son, taking his scarred hand in her soft one as she had a million times before to lead him to the Sept. Yet this time, Alicent leads Aemond to her rooms and the cradle of their future King.

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cinderella-ish · 2 months

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My evolving thoughts on who Yuki should've ended up with, and fanfic's role in changing my mind

So, I want to talk about Yuki Sohma.

Yuki is the member of the main trio in Fruits Basket with whom I most identify. I have little in common with both Tohru and Kyo, and it took me several watches and read-throughs to start to understand their characters/arcs. (I love them, don't get me wrong! I just didn't fully appreciate the depth of their characters/arcs until maybe my third time through the series.)

Yuki, on the other hand, not only had many external qualities in common with me, but the way he grew mirrored some of the ways I changed in early adulthood. His arc felt true to my life, and so he was my favorite character from my first exposure to Fruits Basket.

When I started reading fanfic, I initially limited myself to canon compliant or limited canon-divergence fics, but eventually, I dipped my toes into some alternate pairings. Interestingly, while I truly can't see Tohru with anyone but Kyo, and I can only see Kyo with someone other than Tohru in very specific circumstances, Yuki seems to work with almost everyone he gets paired with. I mean, Yuki and Machi are my OTP, yet I have probably read (and bookmarked) every Yuki/Kakeru fic on Ao3, and some of the most beautiful fanfic I've ever read is Yuki/Kyo.

This confused me at first. Deeply. If Yuchi is my OTP, why do I devour every Yukeru and Yukyo fic?

Well, I think that's because Yuki's arc is, among other things, one where he rejects compulsory romance. This is made explicit in the Cinderella-ish story (why yes this is my favorite part of Fruits Basket, why do you ask?), where he quite literally rejects the role of the prince - the role that's been put onto him by others through the series. I think his arc would have been complete without him ending up with Machi, but there are things about their relationship that make his ending so much more satisfying. In stories where he ends up with Kakeru or Kyo, Machi almost always appears as an important friend for him. I think, for him, having strong bonds outside the Sohmas that he forged on his own was the point, rather than ending up in a relationship.

Anyway, with that out of the way, here are my thoughts on the five most common Yuki pairings on Ao3!

Yuki/Machi

Yes. I love them. 1000/10.

Okay, so the one criticism I have of Yuki/Machi is that Yuki is strongly gay-coded throughout the series, and it would've been awesome to see that play out in the way it was set up. I think that's a huge part of why I connected with Yuki - his arc definitely reminded me of my own experience coming to terms with my own queerness. For more on this, see this exceptional post by @yunsoh

But there are so many moments between them that make me swoon. The chalk scene, first and foremost. I used that scene to talk to my partner about how to support me when my OCD or ADHD is bad. Then there's scene where Yuki figures out why Machi destroys things, then asks to make footprints in the snow together (and tells her he's proud of her! and sees how hard she's worked!). The way he bought her Mogeta memorabilia or figured out she likes red or understood her intent when she chased him around the school to give him a flower and just ended up getting angry at him. The way he understood she bought Tohru a bath set because it's what she would want, just because Kakeru made a similar remark. The way he lit up when he saw Machi's trashed apartment - "the sea of despair."

And the way Machi understood and empathized with Yuki. The way he lit up and started laughing when she called him an airhead. The way she said it took someone like him to notice someone like her. The way she opened up to him and always sought him out. The way Kakeru shipped them. The way he knew she would miss him if he were to disappear, and the way being a support to her was something he needed for himself. The way she accepted him as he actually was, and not the way he thought he was supposed to be. The way she broke the door down with a chair when Yuki was trapped in the storage room. The way he teased her!

They've both been put in seemingly desirable positions within their families, yet those positions are responsible for so much of their pain and trauma. They get each other at a deep level. There's a mutuality to their relationship that Yuki desperately needed. I love them so much!

PS: if you also love Yuki/Machi, come find me on Ao3! I'll be posting some Yuchi content later this week!

Yuki/Kakeru

They have a fantastic and fun dynamic, and they are always touching each other. Kakeru is Yuki's confidant and someone who makes Yuki feel safe in being himself, flaws and all. They help each other grow - Yuki helps Kakeru be more empathetic, and Kakeru helps Yuki become more comfortable with himself. I think this pairing would have also been a satisfying end for Yuki, full stop. I love them, and I will read all your Yukeru fics, please and thank you. (Also, lots of Yukeru writers are just really good writers, so there are some gorgeous works for them.)

Yuki/Kyo

So, I didn't get why this ship was so popular at first, but then I was reminded that Yuki's first thought when he met Kyo was "pretty!" They both secretly admired each other, they're written as foils for each other, and there's a reason enemies to lovers is so popular (and it's called sexual tension).

There's a Yuki/Kyo fic that I'd credit with showing me what fanfic can really do - especially in the ways it expanded the universe, found its own way of handling the curse, and developed the relationship between the two boys in a way that also grew their characters. That fic is The Pursuit of Repeating History by @mistergrass

I do think that Yuki ending up with someone outside the Sohmas is more satisfying for his character arc than someone from the Sohma clan, but his relationship with Kyo is such a key part of his arc that this could be satisfying in its own right.

Yuki/Haru

I absolutely love the relationship these two have in canon. I love how Haru looks out for Yuki, and I love how he drives Yuki a bit crazy. I love how Haru tells Yuki the things he needs to hear, like that it's okay for him to focus on himself for a while, and I love how Yuki braves the Sohma estate to check on Haru. I also love the way Haru can read Yuki like a book.

Haru's words to Yuki about finding someone who will appreciate his fragility and kindness are always so touching. Haru is almost a mentor to Yuki, in a way, or a fairy godmother. (Or a long lost sister?) The fact that he was the one who got Yuki out of isolation at the hands of Akito, or that he was the one person who would check on him just speaks to the strength of his loyalty to Yuki.

I take Haru's statement of "Yuki was my first love" seriously, because he tells Yuki he is serious when Yuki warns him people will take him seriously when he says that. I know there's an argument to be made that Haru is just being his weird self, but that gives me and they were roommates vibes.

Unfortunately, most of the Yuki/Haru fics are dubcon with Dark Haru, which is not something I enjoy reading. What I'd really love to read is an AU where they're together in high school or later, or something that explores Haru's early feelings for Yuki, or just something that explores interesting sides of their characters that are brought out when they're together.

I don't think this would be a terribly satisfying end for Yuki, but I do really love their dynamic.

Yuki/Tohru

Okay, so, full disclosure: I was #teamyuki when I first watched Fruits Basket. Yet now, they're the only pairing on this list that I don't like. Why? Well, as I said above, Yuki's arc is much about rejecting this specific compulsory romance.

Compulsory how? Well, from the beginning, the series seems like it's setting up a love triangle, but kind of tells us (more and more explicitly as the series goes on) that things are not what they seem.

I think the series does a phenomenal job of making the reader/viewer complicit in placing this compulsory romance onto Yuki. A brief aside, making the reader/viewer complicit in the thing a story is criticizing is one of the most effective ways to criticize something, IMO, because it doesn't let the reader/viewer off the hook. We don't get to say, "Look at them, they're so foolish!" We're forced to examine our own expectations and acknowledge that we were made a fool of, too.

I totally got tingles at the spa scene (pictured above), even though upon rewatch, it's obvious how much of an act it is on Yuki's part, and how uncomfortable it makes Tohru. In fact, many of their most "romantic" moments, where the shojo bubbles appear and everything, are when Tohru is acting in an explicitly motherly way to Yuki, and he awkwardly tries to flirt because he's either misinterpreting his feelings or in denial about them.

I also thought his line, "that isn't what I want!" when he tells Kakeru about his true feelings for Tohru is one of the most powerful moments in the series. It's the moment he's finally letting go of being the Princely character and choosing to be himself, for himself, because he deserves to be known and accepted - something he'd never fully believed until that moment.

I think part of why I was initially #teamyuki was because I came to Fruits Basket through the anime first, where much of the development of his relationship with Machi was cut. Also, as I said above, I didn't really get the characters of Kyo and Tohru right away, and I think that prevented me from seeing the power of their romance. The True Form arc was a key moment that I truly didn't understand until several viewings/readings later.

So, all of that is why I don't care for this pairing. I get why people do, but I do feel it undermines Yuki's agency and his character arc. It's a pairing that makes me sad when I see it, as if this character I love has taken a step backward.

(Incidentally, I've been wanting to write a fic where the True Form arc plays out differently and Yuki takes longer to realize the nature of his feelings for Tohru. I truly wonder how he would've come to that understanding without witnessing her running after Kyo. Would he have tried dating her? Would it have been a total disaster?)

Other pairings and larger relationship structures

Out of the other pairings I found, the only one I'm genuinely curious about is Yuki with Saki Hanajima. I'll have to go read those fics. They are each the "cold" half of a "hot/cold" duo (the "hot" halves being Kyo and Arisa, who are basically the same person). I'm very curious what led people to pair them in the handful of fics about them!

(Interestingly, I think it's possible to read Saki and Arisa both as having a bit of sexual tension with Kyo, but not with Yuki.)

The others include Akito, Ayame, Hatori, and Shigure - all pairings that would have a noncon/dubcon element due to Yuki's age, and that's before you get into the specific traumas that these characters have inflicted on Yuki, or the inherent power dynamics between them, or the close familial relationship with Ayame, etc...

The trio relationships are all intriguing and full of possibility. Yuki/Tohru/Kyo? Obviously. Yuki/Kakeru/Kimi? Potential for lots of wackiness. Yuki/Kyo/Haru? Could be the next Mabudachi trio.

(No shade to anyone who enjoys fics with the pairings or tropes I don't like! This blogger believes in "don't like, don't read.")

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bigfan-fanfic · 3 months

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Writing Game 1.1: Simple

Prompt: Picnic Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent

Thank you to the 87 wonderful freaks who voted on my lil poll! I hope you enjoy the first of nine little short fics for this first round!

"Y'know, traditionally, picnics don't involve so much... silver." Clark chuckles, gesturing at the chilled silver tureen of fruit, the mahogany charcuterie board, and the few cloche-covered platters of sandwiches, profiteroles, and chocolate covered strawberries laid out as they take a picnic in the gardens on the grounds of Wayne Manor.

Bruce gives a smirk, his dark blue eyes twinkling. He leans across Clark, enjoying the way the farmboy blushes as he glances down where Bruce's shirt creases at the open button. "That so? I wasn't aware you were a picnic aficionado."

"Oh, hush." Clark chuckles, pushing ever so gently against Bruce's chest to move him back to his side of the plush red patterned carpet laid down beneath them in the garden - probably some material like cashmere.

"Truthfully, I... may have gone a bit overboard." Bruce admitted. "Despite my extensive training, I am... rusty with my culinary skills."

"Wait, you're telling me part of your Batman training was cooking?"

Bruce levels an unamused look at the astonished Kansan.

"Sorry. Carry on."

"I just... sometimes I can go overboard when it comes to extravagance, to cover up the inadequacy I feel at the basic level."

"You're charming enough at parties." Clark muses, observing Bruce, watching him make a conscious attempt to remain open in his body language, to defy the instinct telling him to conceal his emotions. It was adorable how hard he had to try to be vulnerable.

"It's easier when I'm playing a role. When I'm Bruce Wayne, the socialite, the Prince of Gotham, it's no different than playing the role of Matches Malone, or any other aliases. I can throw myself into the character. When I'm stripped of pretense... I'm woefully incomplete."

"Well, that's just not true."

Bruce rolls his eyes. "You really think that? My deficiencies in simply making a meal for myself without Alfred's aid, my failures as a parent and mentor, my lack of skill in basic socialization-"

"When you make yourself into a checklist, you're bound to leave some stuff out. You look at yourself with such a critical eye, you're bound to see all the flaws before the good. If nothing else, that just goes to show how self aware you are." Clark smiles, gently plucking a chilled square of watermelon.

"Leave it to you to turn my self-pitying musings into a complement."

Clark smiles, using a black cloth napkin monogrammed with a gold W to catch the juices of the fruit running down his chin. "Pa always used to try and freak me out. He said if you swallow a black watermelon seed, you'd grow a watermelon in your stomach."

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "I haven't heard about that."

"It's not true. In fact, it's not even anecdotally true; nothing will happen, they're not even slightly toxic, like apple seeds. It's just some random thing we used to say or believe. Like that you shouldn't swim right after eating."

Bruce doesn't talk about his parents. Just as a general rule. And he doesn't now, even though he can probably tell that Clark is wondering if Bruce's dad would've told him these silly little lies, or any of the other countless common parental platitudes. Clark is a deeply empathetic person, and it hurts him to imagine that Bruce never got to be with his parents. It's not even the same kind of situation as him with Jor-El and Lara, who are still somewhat strangers to him - he still had parents. Still had Ma and Pa. And Bruce had Alfred, but it couldn't be the same.

Clark looks at him and instead says, "Can I have a hug?"

And Bruce looks startled, but obliges him. Gracefully, fluidly rises and practically straddles Clark, embracing him. Clark sighs happily and leans back until he's lying down, Bruce on top of him, pulled into an inadvertent kiss.

They kiss for a while, then lie together looking straight up, watching the clouds drift by in the sunlight. A brilliant day, not even just by Gotham standards. Bruce still isn't sure that Clark didn't fly up there before the picnic to ensure the perfect weather.

"I don't mind how extravagant you are. I think it's just how you show love. And besides, I know you don't really mind how plain I am."

"I envy it. I wish I could be simpler, I just... don't know how."

"I don't need you simple, silly. I just need you."

"That's exactly the kind of sugary sweetness I expect from you."

"Why, I do believe I'm growing on ya, Mister Wayne."

Bruce looks at him. Clark looks back. He can see Bruce steeling himself, preparing. And he lets out a very, almost comically, serious...

"I love you."

Clark allows himself one second of pure shock, realizing just how much it took from Bruce to say that, finally.

"I love you too."

Bruce's hand finds its way into Clark's, and they stare into the sky until the sun starts to set and the honeybees start coming for the fruit left uneaten.

Some things, it seems, truly are that simple.

#writing game #bruce wayne x clark kent #superbat #dc headcanons #headcanons #i love the idea that bruce really wants to express his emotions #but it's just a mental block for him #and clark is just content to move at his pace #and they love each other

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rollforshenanigans · 1 year

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taking my break from my c2 watch (at the part where everyone is telling secrets especially veth/caleb going into their backstories for the first time) bc it’s painful to swap for vox machina (a completely different type of pain with the twins)

#fruit watches critical role #tlovm #critical role spoilers #the mighty nein

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marymary-diva17 · 24 days

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Keeping the peace

Sokka, Katara and reader

Life with siblings had the moments where there was no peace, and everything was just chaotic have that was life with siblings. There had been some ups and downs when it came to growing up together, and maintaining the family. Now added traveling the world to help the avatar master all the elements, and during a time of 100 years war yeah there moment of peace and chaotic everyone you went.

Aang " good morning y/n"

y/n " good morning aang I have breakfast on the fire it will be ready soon, we will be having scrambles eggs with some bread and fruit"

aang " that sounds good"

y/n " thank you"

aang " it very quite around here where are sokka and katara" you soon sighed after aang had said towards words.

aang " did I say something wrong"

y/n " no but I have a feeling this peaceful and happy moment, will soon be ended right about ...:"

???? " sokka"

y/n " now" you and aang soon looked to see sokka and katara looking at each other, and they both seem very mad about something. It was to early in the morning to be fight right now for you, but knowing your siblings there was not stopping it.

aang " hey katara and sokka what the matter"

sokka " well katara once again is citric of my packing and folded skills"

katara " I'm just tell you the right away to do it"

sokka " well if you are going to be critic of me I will do you ... what about your gather of woof that not a good pile over there, y/n was lucky enough to start a fire"

katara " it was enough wood sokka maybe you should be working on cooking skills as well, because I have barely seen you cook this whole time yet and we are not eating bugs"

sokka " hey that least I'm bring something back to eat unlike you"

aang " guys I don't think we should be fighting it not good"

katara and sokka " stay out of it"

aang " hey I'm just trying to help it my job as the avatar"

sokka " well good job arrow boy"all three had soon stared fighting with each other. soon a water had splashed all three as they soon looked at you.

y/n " okay we are not having any more fighting this morning"

sokka ' really y/n you had to hit us with water that ..."

y/n " I will hit you with a big wave on a stick your chose or hush" sokka soon stopped speaking as you had looked at tiro.

y/n " aang I love you but you might want to watch when you announce you are the avatar"

aang " yes y/n"

y/n " good katara"

katara " yes"

y/n " stop judging sokka on how he packs the stuff he doing his best and it his way, let see if works best for us"

katara " okay"

y/n " you sokka stop judging katara on getting the wood we don't, need fighting between ourselves right now as we will be traveling together for a long time"

tiro " yes"

Y/n “ good now we are going to have breakfast and once we are done, we will gather everything and leave no more fighting please”

Tiro “ yes ma’am”

y/n “ good now come eat” the tiro knew you had won and there was no going against you, even due you are a good water bender you are also a good peace keeper as well. That was your role keeping the peace between the group, and making sure everyone is okay during the treacle and nothing bad will happen. Once breakfast was ate the group soon packed up and left together, the fighting had stoped and everyone seemed to be getting along while travel to their new destination.

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itslostfocus · 1 year

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vocab list: 신체

눈: eye, eyeball, eyesight; snow; gradation, marking, graduation

시선: one's eyes, graze, eye-catching

안구: eyeball

쳐다보다: to look up, look/stare (at), gaze (at)

눈길: to watch something/someone; street made of snow stick

귀: ear

청각: sense of hearing

청력: hearing (hearing capability that can get lost with the years)

이삭: ear, head of the rice, barley, etc where a flower opens and the fruit comes from

눈썹: eyebrow

눈사을 찌푸리다: to frown

심장: heart

마음: heart, mind, personality

가슴: heart, chest, breast, bust, boobs

중심: center, heart, middle; focus, nucleus, core; emphasis, importance

머리: head, hair; brain, mind, intelligence

지도자: leader, head (of)

머리카락: hair

털: hair, fur, heather, fluff

섬유: fiber, textile

목: neck, throat

몸: body (pure korean)

신체: body, physical (chinese derived, used more in formal situations)

단체: organization, association, society, group, party

시체: dead body, corpse

몸매: body figure/shape

무릎: knee

무릎치기: idiomatic expression meaning to figure sth out/to realize; knee breenches (male pants that go to the knees)

무릎으로 치다: hit with the knees

발: foot, paw, step

걷다: to walk

기슭: foot, base, border, edge (mountain, hill, river, etc)

보병: foot soldiers, infantry (play the main roles in the army, move by foot and attack enemies with rifles, etc)

발가락: toe

발끝: tiptoe

손: hand

주다: to give (an item to someone or a qualification, right, score)

도움: help, aid, assistance, support

반수: half of a number divided equally by 2

맡기다: to assign, charge (someone the responsibility for a certain role or work); entrust, leave something with

손가락: finger

지적하다: to point out, indicate, comment, criticize

손톱: (finger) nail

못: nail (clavo)

분석하다: to analyze

잡다: to hold (something in one's hand and not let it go); arrest, catch, capture (someone)

어깨: shoulder

책임을 지다: to assume/bear/shoulder/take the responsibility; hold oneself responsible for

갓길: side road for emergencies

얼굴: face

직면하다: to confront, face, come face to face with

표정: face expression

입: mouth, lips, one's taste

말: word, language, speech, talk

입구: entrance to/of, entry, way in

치아: tooth (humans and animals, hospitals use it)이tooth (expression for naming the different parts of the teeth, like molars; it's rarely used by itself)

톱니: tooth of a saw

코: nose

후각: sense of smell

팔: arm

무기: weapon, armaments

무장하다: to be armed, militarized

부문: section, field, division

팔걸이: armrest part of a chair

허벅지: thigh

source: 영단어는 관리다 app

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spending-life-pretending · 2 years

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Not that I have many followers I can influence on here but if anyone’s going to appreciate this miniseries it’s the tumblr audience so pls go watch Headless by Shipwrecked on youtube:

youtube

I’ve been a Shipwrecked girlie since middle school, and for anyone who likes (or has liked in the past)…

a) Critical Role

b) The Legend of Sleepy Hollow / Washington Irving in general

c) the literary webseries fad of the early 2010s (Lizzie Bennet Diaries, Nothing Much to Do my beloveds, etc.)

d) Starkid musicals

e) Tin Can Bros

f) Supernatural

g) witnessing the fruits of labor when a passion project pays off in a big way

h) beautiful himbos who steal every scene they’re in (Brom Bones accidental marriage to me when)

…this show will deliver laughs, gasps, and oh-my-god-is-that-who-I-think-it-is’s galore. The finale had me on my feet shouting at the screen; please PLEASE go show this amazing independent endeavor some support and love if you have a minute.

#headless shipwrecked #YouTube #mary kate wiles #matthew mercer #starkid #tin can bros #sean persaud #sinead persaud #shipwrecked comedy #sarah grace hart #jon cozart #lauren lopez #joey richter #this series has EVERYTHING (and everyone; LA nerd culture is so strong)#me #a shout into the void #the headless horseman #the legend of sleepy hollow

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fibula-rasa · 1 month

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Favorite New-to-me Films—March ‘24

(listed in order pictured above, L to R)

READ on BELOW the JUMP!

Forbidden Fruit (1921)

[letterboxd | imdb]

C.B. DeMille and Jeanie MacPherson’s second swing at this modernized Cinderella story about overcoming a bad husband, now with eye-popping fantasy sequences designed by Natacha Rambova. [Gif sets incoming!]

Mary Maddock (Agnes Ayres) does seamstress work and takes in laundry to support her layabout, no-goodnik husband. Her wealthy clients (Kathlyn Williams & Theodore Roberts) hatch a scheme to use a social event to settle a business deal with handsome young entrepreneur Nelson Rogers (Forrest Stanley). Mary accepts the job to keep Rogers occupied, with the unintended consequence of the two falling in love. When Mary’s husband makes a surprise appearance, the jig is up. But, after her husband’s chicanery has deadly consequences, Mary and Rogers are free to live happily ever after. CW: a pet bird is killed.

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The Woman King (2022)

[letterboxd | imdb]

Giving an epic treatment to fitting subject matter, Gina Prince-Bythewood, Maria Bello, and Dana Stevens tell the story of the Agojie, a real-life group of warriors from the kingdom of Dahomey in West Africa, and General Nanisca (Viola Davis), a fictional leader of the warriors. The Woman King has a creative approach to history, to which a lot of critical attention has been paid—it’s certainly worth seeking education on relevant historical topics.

That said, it was a gutsy and risky proposition to tell a story tied into the Transatlantic slave trade focused entirely on the West African and Portuguese side for an American (and English speaking) audience. Also, as an avid fan of Xena: Warrior Princess and the Eddas/sagas of Iceland and Scandinavia, I appreciated the filmmakers taking a legendary approach to this location and time period. In its deliberately extra-historical engagement with history, The Woman King also brought to mind for me Senegalese filmmaker Ousmane Sembène‘s Ceddo (1971), which I highly recommend. (Obviously the films have wildly different tones/styles tho!)

As you might imagine from the description, heavy CWs for violence (including SA), blood, and slavery.

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Why Change Your Wife? (1920)

[letterboxd | imdb]

A month ago, I wouldn’t have believed you if you told me that I’d be putting not one but two DeMille movies on my new-to-me favorites list! I initially watched them as reference for the cosplay I mentioned in the last monthly round-up post, but ended up enjoying both! Often there are elements of DeMille’s films that hamper my ability to enjoy them fully, whether it’s goofy class politics (hello Saturday Night), racist depictions (hi The Woman God Forgot, which I also watched for the first time this past month), or that I simply rarely enjoy christian bible epics.

That’s not to say Why Change Your Wife? is somehow perfect—it features pretty sexist attitudes. But, having learned a little bit about DeMille’s unconventional marriage, I see it less of a story of wives failing and more of a story about how two people who have a solid partnership can lose themselves when they lose each other. Here I’m referring to the first part of the film, before Swanson’s Beth and Meighan’s Robert get divorced. Beth isn’t being true to herself when she’s on her mental-improvement kick—there are sufficient details thrown in that show that she and Robert have drifted apart and she’s responding to it by morphing into a maiden aunt type. The film could’ve made Robert’s role in their marriage’s demise a little more overt, but I do think DeMille and screenwriters Olga Printzlau, Sada Cowan, and William DeMille must have been concerned about the American public’s response to a story that normalizes divorce in 1920. For context, we didn’t have no-fault divorce here in the US until the 1970s.

Anyway, why should you watch it? Gloria Swanson and Bebe Daniels offer fun and energetic characterizations as the two Mrs. Gordons, and they share a pretty wild fight scene. The costumes by Natacha Rambova are funky and interesting. The film features an absolutely adorable dog too! (If anyone recognizes the dog please LMK!) [Gif sets for this film are also on the way!]

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Intohimon vallassa (1947)

[letterboxd | imdb | ELONET]

Teuvo Tulio don’t miss.

The heir to the biggest farm in the county, Aino (Regina Linnanheimo), is forced into an arranged marriage, but the man she really loves, Olavi (Kullervo Kalske), sticks around and becomes the town blacksmith. Years pass and Aino’s husband becomes an alcoholic and an abuser. Olavi keeps his distance as Aino’s marriage implodes in a particularly disturbing fashion. CW: domestic abuse, alcoholism, implied death of dog

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Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem (2023)

[letterboxd | imdb]

Look at me watching more than one movie this year that was made in this century! Anyways, I’ve been a turtle fan as long as I can remember (photographic evidence below) and I love that the comics have been re-adapted so well in the last 15 or so years for younger generations. (The 2012 show is very cute btw, worth checking out especially if you have kids.)

This take features a unique and kinetic animation style with an accessible story touching on what makes someone an outcast and how both adults and kids can navigate that. Mutant Mayhem features probably my new favorite depictions of April and of Splinter. Also, even though the non-turtle characters are almost all celebrity voice actors, the voice acting quality is very high.

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Montana Moon (1930)

[letterboxd | imdb]

Sweet romantic story with comedic elements about a millionaire’s willful daughter (Joan Crawford) who, fleeing an awkward situation on a train ride with her family, runs into a cowboy (Johnny Mack Brown). The two quickly fall in love and are married, but the newlyweds face challenges when the differences in their lifestyles come into sharp relief. I love Crawford’s costuming and styling in this and her performance elevates the material. There are extended sequences with classic country-western music tho, so if that grates on you, you might want to take a pass on this one.

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Leda – The Fantastic Adventure of Yohko (1985)

[letterboxd | imdb]

Yoko Asagiri is a young girl struggling to confess her feelings to the boy she likes. She decides to confess via a song she composed herself, but the song turns out to be a key to another world. Yoko teams up with a talking dog and a tiny warrior girl with a giant robot to fight the villainous Zell, who wants to use Yoko’s song to conquer her world. The animation and designs are top-notch as is the music. I personally enjoyed all of the Oz vibes suffused throughout the OVA.

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Tomatos Another Day (1934)

[letterboxd | imdb | Eastman House]

Also known as “It Never Happened,” this is ostensibly a short film about a woman carrying on an affair and said affair being discovered by her husband. What Tomatos Another Day actually is is a send up of early talkies conceived and executed by independent filmmaker James Sibley Watson Jr. and collaborator Alec Wilder. If you’ve been around my blog for a while, you probably already know that I love Watson’s Fall of the House of Usher (1928) [Gifs/Stills]. However, I haven’t seen much else of his work! Thankfully, Eastman House has preserved and digitized a couple of his films and I plan on watching more soon. The link above has the short film with an introduction and outtakes!

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Past Lives (2023)

[letterboxd | imdb]

Past Lives is a quiet but emotionally-rich love story by Celine Song that spans decades but also a single eventful week. I loved the way that the story was structured and how much the film relied on thoughtful pauses to communicate complicated emotions. The actors, Greta Lee, Teo Yoo, and John Magaro, all put in great work here. If you haven’t seen it yet, but plan to watch it, prepare to cry a bit.

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The Mind Reader (1933)

[letterboxd | imdb]

Warren William plays a carny with a different gimmick for every town in the midwest. When the Depression affects his take, he and his cohorts, Frank (Alan Jenkins) and Sam (Clarence Muse), come up with a new scheme: fortune telling. As Chandra the Great, the crew start to rake it in, but when Chandra falls for an upright citizen (Constance Cummings), the scheme and their freedom is put in jeopardy.

I’m not accustomed to William playing this particular brand of sleazebag, but he really kills it as Chandra/Chandler/Munro. I appreciated how creative and adventurous the cinematography and editing is—not an especially common trait for pre-code films. I also made some still sets for the film!

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Honorable Mention: Hard to Handle (1933) [letterboxd | imdb]

This film gets honorable mention because while I didn’t think it was particularly good, a few call outs are deserved. The bad: the plot was unnecessarily convoluted and the recurring sequences with fat people were iffy at best. The better: Ruth Donnelly shines as the comedically base mother of Mary Brian and she even gets to do a bit of physical comedy. Donnelly, Brian, and Cagney have a nice chemistry together throughout. In terms of costuming, the matching outfits of Brian and Donnelly are funny, but made funnier by the sheer quantity of mother-daughter ensembles they wear. The neutral: the film is packed with topical Depression-era references: notably Florida investment swindles and trends like dance marathons and the grapefruit diet. All-in-all, the filmmakers could have done less and achieved more.

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The only big post I completed this month was a massive undertaking: Lost, but Not Forgotten: Omar Khayyam / A Lover’s Oath and a timeline for the film’s production and release.

Otherwise, I made themed gif and still sets from:

Torture Garden (1967)

The Marriage Circle (1924)

Le Altre (1969)

The Mind Reader (1933)

As for April, the cosplay I mentioned should be up very soon. If I have the time, both Lost, but Not Forgotten and How’d They Do That should have new installments posted and I have a few movies/shows on my themed gif/still agenda.

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