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aboveallarescuer · 4 years

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How prophecies, dreams and magical intuition drive Dany’s story

As I was rereading ASOIAF, I made it my goal to compile all* the book passages demonstrating either certain key attributes of Daenerys Targaryen (e.g. that she's compassionate and smart) or aspects of hers that are usually overstated (e.g. that she's ambitious and prophecy-driven). Doing such a task may seem exaggerated, but I'd argue it's not, for many, many misconceptions about Dany have become widespread in light of the show's final season's events (and even before).

It must be acknowledged that it can be tricky to reference, say, ADWD passages to counter-argument how she was depicted in season eight (which allegedly follows ADOS events). Dany will have had plenty of character development in the span of two books. However, whatever happens to Dany in the next two books, I would argue that there is more than enough material to conclude that her show counterpart was made to fall for flaws that she (for the most part) never had and actions that she (for the most part) would never take. (and that's not even considering the double standards and the contradictions with what had been shown from show!Dany up until then, but that's obviously out of the scope of these lists)

Another objection to the purpose of these lists is that Game of Thrones is different from A Song of Ice and Fire and should be analyzed on its own, which is a fair point. However, the show is also an adaptation of these books, which begs the questions: why did they change Dany's character? Why did they overfocus on negative traits of hers or depicted them as negative when they weren't supposed to be or gave her negative traits that were never hers to begin with? Another fact that undermines the show=/=books argument is that most people think that the show's ending will be the books', albeit only in broad strokes and in different circumstances. As a result, people's perception of Dany is inevitably influenced by the show, which is a shame.

I hope these lists can be useful for whoever wants to find book passages to defend (or even simply explore different facets of) Dany's character in metas or conversations.

*Well, at least all the passages that I could find in her chapters, which is no guarantee that the effort was perfectly executed, but I did my best.

Also, people could interpret certain passages differently and then come up with a different collection of passages if they ever attempted to make one, so I'm not saying that this list is completely objective (nor that there could ever be one).

Also, some passages have been cut short according to whether they were, IMO, relevant to the specific topic of the list they're in, so the context surrounding them may not always be clear (always read the books and use asearchoficeandfire). Many of them appear in different lists, sometimes fully referenced, sometimes not.

I listed the passages back to front because I felt doing so highlighted Dany's evolution better.

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To justify the existence of this list, let's see examples of widespread opinions that I feel misrepresent Daenerys Targaryen:

The more absolute power she consolidated, the more she was lauded as a selfless hero. [...] Being hailed as a savior for so long has made her fall for that narrative more than anyone. She’s come to believe she is a goddess among men. So when she slides into doing the wrong thing, it becomes easy for her to justify why -- if she did it -- it must be right. [...] It’s almost impossible to imagine walking through fire and experiencing the intense worship she’s known without coming to think you have superhuman rights to decide the future of the world. (The Take)

The gods flipped a coin for Dany that can — and does — fall either way. But it tends to come up good when the people love her, and bad when the people don’t. She’s repeatedly saying I have a destiny. I will park my ass on the Iron Throne. Here’s how it’s going to work: You’re going to bend the knee, or you’re going to die. I’d prefer if you loved me. I’ll accept that you fear me. A bent knee or your death. (x)

She can and does dehumanize those who stand between her and her (perceived) destiny. (x)

I would argue these claims certainly cannot be made after reading the books (some can't even after watching the show's first 71 episodes, but the show can be all over the place and ... I digress), so take a look at these passages.

NOTE: I didn't include anything from ACOK Dany IV because she's receiving the prophecies rather than reacting to or acting based on them. I preferred to focus on how they influence her characterization and felt that that chapter wouldn't serve for that purpose. The dragon dreams on AGOT, however, are often interwoven with her reactions and the strength and confidence she usually derives from them, so I added them.

A Dance with Dragons

ADWD Daenerys X

“To go north, you must journey south. To reach the west, you must go east. To go forward, you must go back. To touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow.”

“Quaithe?” Dany called. “Where are you, Quaithe?”

Then she saw. Her mask is made of starlight. “Remember who you are, Daenerys,” the stars whispered in a woman’s voice. “The dragons know. Do you?”

Bells, Dany thought, smiling, remembering Khal Drogo, her sun-and-stars, and the bells he braided into his hair. When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east, when the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves, when my womb quickens again and I bear a living child, Khal Drogo will return to me.

She called until her voice was hoarse ... and Drogon came, snorting plumes of smoke. The grass bowed down before him. Dany leapt onto his back. She stank of blood and sweat and fear, but none of that mattered. “To go forward I must go back,” she said. Her bare legs tightened around the dragon’s neck. She kicked him, and Drogon threw himself into the sky. Her whip was gone, so she used her hands and feet and turned him north by east, the way the scout had gone.

ADWD Daenerys IX

“Khrazz believes the hearts of brave men make him stronger,” said Hizdahr. Jhiqui murmured her approval. Dany had once eaten a stallion’s heart to give strength to her unborn son … but that had not saved Rhaego when the maegi murdered him in her womb. Three treasons shall you know. She was the first, Jorah was the second, Brown Ben Plumm the third. Was she done with betrayals?

ADWD Daenerys VIII

“The Yunkai’i grow weaker as well. The bloody flux has taken hold amongst the Tolosi, it is said, and spread across the river to the third Ghiscari legion.”

The pale mare. Daenerys sighed. Quaithe warned me of the pale mare’s coming. She told me of the Dornish prince as well, the sun’s son. She told me much and more, but all in riddles. “I cannot rely on plague to save me from my enemies.[”]

Every child knows its mother, Dany thought. When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves … “They call to me. Come.”

Dany slid her arms around him and let him have his way. Drunk as he was, she knew he would not be inside her long.

Nor was he. Afterward he nuzzled at her ear and whispered, “Gods grant that we have made a son tonight.”

The words of Mirri Maz Duur rang in her head. When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. Then he will return, and not before. The meaning was plain enough; Khal Drogo was as like to return from the dead as she was to bear a living child. But there are some secrets she could not bring herself to share, even with a husband, so she let Hizdahr zo Loraq keep his hopes.

ADWD Daenerys VII

She found herself remembering her nightmare. Sometimes there is truth in dreams. Could Hizdahr zo Loraq be working for the warlocks, was that what the dream had meant? Could the dream have been a sending? Were the gods telling her to put Hizdahr aside and wed this Dornish prince instead? Something tickled at her memory. “Ser Barristan, what are the arms of House Martell?”

“A sun in splendor, transfixed by a spear.”

The sun’s son. A shiver went through her. “Shadows and whispers.” What else had Quaithe said? The pale mare and the sun’s son. There was a lion in it too, and a dragon. Or am I the dragon? “Beware the perfumed seneschal.” That she remembered. “Dreams and prophecies. Why must they always be in riddles? I hate this. Oh, leave me, ser. Tomorrow is my wedding day.”

ADWD Daenerys VI

“Captain, you made mention of four free companies. We know of only three. The Windblown, the Long Lances, and the Company of the Cat.”

“Ser Grandfather knows how to count. The Second Sons have gone over to the Yunkai’i.” Daario turned his head and spat. “That’s for Brown Ben Plumm. When next I see his ugly face I will open him from throat to groin and rip out his black heart.”

Dany tried to speak and found no words. She remembered Ben’s face the last time she had seen it. It was a warm face, a face I trusted. Dark skin and white hair, the broken nose, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Even the dragons had been fond of old Brown Ben, who liked to boast that he had a drop of dragon blood himself. Three treasons will you know. Once for gold and once for blood and once for love. Was Plumm the third treason, or the second? And what did that make Ser Jorah, her gruff old bear? Would she never have a friend that she could trust? What good are prophecies if you cannot make sense of them? If I marry Hizdahr before the sun comes up, will all these armies melt away like morning dew and let me rule in peace?

“I thought you would be the one to betray me. Once for blood and once for gold and once for love, the warlocks said. I thought … I never thought Brown Ben. Even my dragons seemed to trust him.” She clutched her captain by the shoulders. “Promise me that you will never turn against me. I could not bear that. Promise me.”

ADWD Daenerys V

His bitterness dismayed her, so much so that Dany found herself wondering if the grizzled Pentoshi could be one of her three betrayers. No, he is only an old man, far from home and sick at heart.

“We must pray,” said the Green Grace. “The gods sent this man to us. He comes as a harbinger. He comes as a sign.”

“A sign of what?” asked Dany.

“A sign of wroth and ruin.”

She did not want to believe that. “He was one man. One sick man with an arrow in his leg. A horse brought him here, not a god.” A pale mare. Dany rose abruptly. “I thank you for your counsel and for all that you did for this poor man.”

“Your Worship, I beg you, take the noble Hizdahr for your king at once. He can speak with the Wise Masters, make a peace for us.”

“On what terms?” Beware the perfumed seneschal, Quaithe had said. The masked woman had foretold the coming of the pale mare, was she right about the noble Reznak too?

ADWD Daenerys IV

“...In him the prophecies shall be fulfilled, and your enemies will melt away like snow.”

He shall be the stallion that mounts the world. Dany knew how it went with prophecies. They were made of words, and words were wind. There would be no son for Loraq, no heir to unite dragon and harpy. When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east, when the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. Only then would her womb quicken once again …

Dany folded her hands together. “Words are wind, even words like love and peace. I put more trust in deeds. In my Seven Kingdoms, knights go on quests to prove themselves worthy of the maiden that they love. They seek for magic swords, for chests of gold, for crowns stolen from a dragon’s hoard.”

Beware the perfumed seneschal. Has Reznak made common cause with Hizdahr and the Green Grace and set some trap to snare me?

ADWD Daenerys II

“...Hear me, Daenerys Targaryen. The glass candles are burning. Soon comes the pale mare, and after her the others. Kraken and dark flame, lion and griffin, the sun’s son and the mummer’s dragon. Trust none of them. Remember the Undying. Beware the perfumed seneschal.”

“Reznak? Why should I fear him?” Dany rose from the pool. Water trickled down her legs, and gooseflesh covered her arms in the cool night air. “If you have some warning for me, speak plainly. What do you want of me, Quaithe?”

[...] “To show you the way.”

“I remember the way. I go north to go south, east to go west, back to go forward. And to touch the light I have to pass beneath the shadow.” She squeezed the water from her silvery hair. “I am half-sick of riddling. In Qarth I was a beggar, but here I am a queen. I command you—”

“Daenerys. Remember the Undying. Remember who you are.”

“The blood of the dragon.” But my dragons are roaring in the darkness. “I remember the Undying. Child of three, they called me. Three mounts they promised me, three fires, and three treasons. One for blood and one for gold and one for …”

When Reznak and Skahaz appeared, she found herself looking at them askance, mindful of the three treasons. Beware the perfumed seneschal. She sniffed suspiciously at Reznak mo Reznak. I could command the Shavepate to arrest him and put him to the question. Would that forestall the prophecy? Or would some other betrayer take his place? Prophecies are treacherous, she reminded herself, and Reznak may be no more than he appears.

ADWD Daenerys I

There were times when Dany wondered if that razor might not be better saved for Reznak’s throat. He was a useful man, but she liked him little and trusted him less. The Undying of Qarth had told her she would be thrice betrayed. Mirri Maz Duur had been the first, Ser Jorah the second. Would Reznak be the third? The Shavepate? Daario? Or will it be someone I would never suspect, Ser Barristan or Grey Worm or Missandei?

A Storm of Swords

ASOS Daenerys VI

Across the room, Grey Worm wore the plain uniform of the Unsullied, his spiked bronze cap beneath one arm. These at least she could rely on, or so she hoped ... and Brown Ben Plumm as well, solid Ben with his grey-white hair and weathered face, so beloved of her dragons. And Daario beside him, glittering in gold. Daario and Ben Plumm, Grey Worm, Irri, Jhiqui, Missandei ... as she looked at them Dany found herself wondering which of them would betray her next.

The dragon has three heads. There are two men in the world who I can trust, if I can find them. I will not be alone then. We will be three against the world, like Aegon and his sisters.

“Daenerys,” he said, “I have loved you.”

And there it was. Three treasons will you know. Once for blood and once for gold and once for love.

She was Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, khaleesi and queen, Mother of Dragons, slayer of warlocks, breaker of chains, and there was no one in the world that she could trust.

ASOS Daenerys V

“If you were grown,” she told Drogon, scratching him between the horns, “I’d fly you over the walls and melt that harpy down to slag.” But it would be years before her dragons were large enough to ride. And when they are, who shall ride them? The dragon has three heads, but I have only one.

Could I love Daario? What would it mean, if I took him into my bed? Would that make him one of the heads of the dragon? Ser Jorah would be angry, she knew, but he was the one who’d said she had to take two husbands. Perhaps I should marry them both and be done with it.

“Khaleesi, it was only at the start, before I came to know you ... before I came to love ...”

“Do not say that word!” She backed away from him. “How could you? What did the Usurper promise you? Gold, was it gold?” The Undying had said she would be betrayed twice more, once for gold and once for love. “Tell me what you were promised?”

“Varys said ... I might go home.” He bowed his head.

I was going to take you home! [...] Was there no one she could trust, no one to keep her safe?

ASOS Daenerys IV

Dany found herself wondering whether he was right about Daario. She felt very lonely all of a sudden. Mirri Maz Duur had promised that she would never bear a living child. House Targaryen will end with me. That made her sad. “You must be my children,” she told the dragons, “my three fierce children. Arstan says dragons live longer than men, so you will go on after I am dead.”

Ser Jorah urged her to go, but Dany remembered a dream she had dreamed in the House of the Undying. “They will not hurt me,” she told him. “They are my children, Jorah.” She laughed, put her heels into her horse, and rode to them, the bells in her hair ringing sweet victory. She trotted, then cantered, then broke into a gallop, her braid streaming behind. The freed slaves parted before her. “Mother,” they called from a hundred throats, a thousand, ten thousand. “Mother,” they sang, their fingers brushing her legs as she flew by. “Mother, Mother, Mother!”

ASOS Daenerys III

That night she dreamt that she was Rhaegar, riding to the Trident. But she was mounted on a dragon, not a horse. When she saw the Usurper’s rebel host across the river they were armored all in ice, but she bathed them in dragonfire and they melted away like dew and turned the Trident into a torrent. Some small part of her knew that she was dreaming, but another part exulted. This is how it was meant to be. The other was a nightmare, and I have only now awakened.

She woke suddenly in the darkness of her cabin, still flush with triumph. Balerion seemed to wake with her, and she heard the faint creak of wood, water lapping against the hull, a footfall on the deck above her head. And something else.

Someone was in the cabin with her.

“Irri? Jhiqui? Where are you?” Her handmaids did not respond. It was too black to see, but she could hear them breathing. “Jorah, is that you?”

“They sleep,” a woman said. “They all sleep.” The voice was very close. “Even dragons must sleep.”

She is standing over me. “Who’s there?” Dany peered into the darkness. She thought she could see a shadow, the faintest outline of a shape. “What do you want of me?”

“Remember. To go north, you must journey south. To reach the west, you must go east. To go forward you must go back, and to touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow.”

“Quaithe?” Dany sprung from the bed and threw open the door. Pale yellow lantern light flooded the cabin, and Irri and Jhiqui sat up sleepily. “Khaleesi?” murmured Jhiqui, rubbing her eyes. Viserion woke and opened his jaws, and a puff of flame brightened even the darkest corners. There was no sign of a woman in a red lacquer mask. “Khaleesi, are you unwell?” asked Jhiqui.

“A dream.” Dany shook her head. “I dreamed a dream, no more. Go back to sleep. All of us, go back to sleep.” Yet try as she might, sleep would not come again.

ASOS Daenerys I

They are my children, she told herself, and if the maegi spoke truly, they are the only children I am ever like to have.

“Sit, good ser, and tell me what is troubling you.”

“Three things.” Ser Jorah sat. “Strong Belwas. This Arstan Whitebeard. And Illyrio Mopatis, who sent them.”

Again? Dany pulled the coverlet higher and tugged one end over her shoulder. “And why is that?”

“The warlocks in Qarth told you that you would be betrayed three times,” the exile knight reminded her, as Viserion and Rhaegal began to snap and claw at each other.

“Once for blood and once for gold and once for love.” Dany was not like to forget. “Mirri Maz Duur was the first.”

“Which means two traitors yet remain ... and now these two appear. I find that troubling, yes. Never forget, Robert offered a lordship to the man who slays you.”

“My queen,” he said, “and the bravest, sweetest, and most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Daenerys—”

“Your Grace!”

“Your Grace,” he conceded, “the dragon has three heads, remember? You have wondered at that, ever since you heard it from the warlocks in the House of Dust. Well, here’s your meaning: Balerion, Meraxes, and Vhagar, ridden by Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya. The three-headed dragon of House Targaryen—three dragons, and three riders.”

“Yes,” said Dany, “but my brothers are dead.”

“Rhaenys and Visenya were Aegon’s wives as well as his sisters. You have no brothers, but you can take husbands. And I tell you truly, Daenerys, there is no man in all the world who will ever be half so true to you as me.”

A Clash of Kings

ACOK Daenerys V

Dany found her thoughts returning to the Palace of Dust once more, as the tongue returns to a space left by a missing tooth. Child of three, they had called her, daughter of death, slayer of lies, bride of fire. So many threes. Three fires, three mounts to ride, three treasons. “The dragon has three heads,” she sighed. “Do you know what that means, Jorah?”

“Your Grace? The sigil of House Targaryen is a three-headed dragon, red on black.”

“I know that. But there are no three-headed dragons.”

“The three heads were Aegon and his sisters.”

“Visenya and Rhaenys,” she recalled. “I am descended from Aegon and Rhaenys through their son Aenys and their grandson Jaehaerys.”

“Blue lips speak only lies, isn’t that what Xaro told you? Why do you care what the warlocks whispered? All they wanted was to suck the life from you, you know that now.”

“Perhaps,” she said reluctantly. “Yet the things I saw ...” “A dead man in the prow of a ship, a blue rose, a banquet of blood ... what does any of it mean, Khaleesi? A mummer’s dragon, you said. What is a mummer’s dragon, pray?” “A cloth dragon on poles,” Dany explained. “Mummers use them in their follies, to give the heroes something to fight.”

Ser Jorah frowned.

Dany could not let it go. “His is the song of ice and fire, my brother said. I’m certain it was my brother. Not Viserys, Rhaegar. He had a harp with silver strings.”

Ser Jorah’s frown deepened until his eyebrows came together. “Prince Rhaegar played such a harp,” he conceded. “You saw him?”

She nodded. “There was a woman in a bed with a babe at her breast. My brother said the babe was the prince that was promised and told her to name him Aegon.”

“Prince Aegon was Rhaegar’s heir by Elia of Dorne,” Ser Jorah said. “But if he was this prince that was promised, the promise was broken along with his skull when the Lannisters dashed his head against a wall.”

“I remember,” Dany said sadly. “They murdered Rhaegar’s daughter as well, the little princess. Rhaenys, she was named, like Aegon’s sister. There was no Visenya, but he said the dragon has three heads. What is the song of ice and fire?”

“It’s no song I’ve ever heard.”

“I went to the warlocks hoping for answers, but instead they’ve left me with a hundred new questions.”

“The great cog Saduleon is berthed at the end of the quay, and the galleys Summer Sun and Joso’s Prank are anchored beyond the breakwater.”

Three heads has the dragon, Dany thought, wondering. “I shall tell my people to make ready to depart at once. But the ships that bring me home must bear different names.”

“As you wish,” said Arstan. “What names would you prefer?”

“Vhagar,” Daenerys told him. “Meraxes. And Balerion. Paint the names on their hulls in golden letters three feet high, Arstan. I want every man who sees them to know the dragons are returned.”

ACOK Daenerys III

“No trick,” a woman said in the Common Tongue.

Dany had not noticed Quaithe in the crowd, yet there she stood, eyes wet and shiny behind the implacable red lacquer mask. “What mean you, my lady?”

“Half a year gone, that man could scarcely wake fire from dragonglass. He had some small skill with powders and wildfire, sufficient to entrance a crowd while his cutpurses did their work. He could walk across hot coals and make burning roses bloom in the air, but he could no more aspire to climb the fiery ladder than a common fisherman could hope to catch a kraken in his nets.”

[...] “And now?”

“And now his powers grow, Khaleesi. And you are the cause of it.”

“Me?” She laughed. “How could that be?”

The woman stepped closer and lay two fingers on Dany’s wrist. “You are the Mother of Dragons, are you not?”

“You must leave this city soon, Daenerys Targaryen, or you will never be permitted to leave it at all.”

Dany’s wrist still tingled where Quaithe had touched her. “Where would you have me go?” she asked.

“To go north, you must journey south. To reach the west, you must go east. To go forward you must go back, and to touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow.”

Asshai, Dany thought. She would have me go to Asshai. “Will the Asshai’i give me an army?” she demanded. “Will there be gold for me in Asshai? Will there be ships? What is there in Asshai that I will not find in Qarth?”

“Truth,” said the woman in the mask. And bowing, she faded back into the crowd.

The comet led me to Qarth for a reason. I had hoped to find my army here, but it seems that will not be. What else remains, I ask myself?” I am afraid, she realized, but I must be brave. “Come the morrow, you must go to Pyat Pree.”

ACOK Daenerys II

Last of the three seekers to depart was Quaithe the shadowbinder. From her Dany received only a warning. “Beware,” the woman in the red lacquer mask said.

“Of whom?”

“Of all. They shall come day and night to see the wonder that has been born again into the world, and when they see they shall lust. For dragons are fire made flesh, and fire is power.”

When Quaithe too was gone, Ser Jorah said, “She speaks truly, my queen ... though I like her no more than the others.”

“I do not understand her.” Pyat and Xaro had showered Dany with promises from the moment they first glimpsed her dragons, declaring themselves her loyal servants in all things, but from Quaithe she had gotten only the rare cryptic word. And it disturbed her that she had never seen the woman’s face. Remember Mirri Maz Duur, she told herself. Remember treachery.

As the handmaids toweled her dry and wrapped her in a sandsilk robe, Dany’s thoughts went to the three who had sought her out in the City of Bones. The Bleeding Star led me to Qarth for a purpose. Here I will find what I need, if I have the strength to take what is offered, and the wisdom to avoid the traps and snares. If the gods mean for me to conquer, they will provide, they will send me a sign, and if not ... if not ...

ACOK Daenerys I

The Dothraki named the comet shierak qiya, the Bleeding Star. The old men muttered that it omened ill, but Daenerys Targaryen had seen it first on the night she had burned Khal Drogo, the night her dragons had awakened. It is the herald of my coming, she told herself as she gazed up into the night sky with wonder in her heart. The gods have sent it to show me the way.

Yet when she put the thought into words, her handmaid Doreah quailed. “That way lies the red lands, Khaleesi. A grim place and terrible, the riders say.”

“The way the comet points is the way we must go,” Dany insisted ... though in truth, it was the only way open to her.

Dany looked at the horizon with despair. They had lost a third of their number, and still the waste stretched before them, bleak and red and endless. The comet mocks my hopes, she thought, lifting her eyes to where it scored the sky. Have I crossed half the world and seen the birth of dragons only to die with them in this hard hot desert? She would not believe it.

“Ghosts,” Irri muttered. “Terrible ghosts. We must not stay here, Khaleesi, this is their place.”

“I fear no ghosts. Dragons are more powerful than ghosts.” And figs are more important. “Go with Jhiqui and find me some clean sand for a bath, and trouble me no more with silly talk.”

Khal Drogo had been her sun-and-stars, her first, and perhaps he must be her last. The maegi Mirri Maz Duur had sworn she should never bear a living child, and what man would want a barren wife? And what man could hope to rival Drogo, who had died with his hair uncut and rode now through the night lands, the stars his khalasar?

A Game of Thrones

AGOT Daenerys X

Bound hand and foot, Mirri Maz Duur watched from the dust with disquiet in her black eyes. “It is not enough to kill a horse,” she told Dany. “By itself, the blood is nothing. You do not have the words to make a spell, nor the wisdom to find them. Do you think bloodmagic is a game for children? You call me maegi as if it were a curse, but all it means is wise. You are a child, with a child’s ignorance. Whatever you mean to do, it will not work. Loose me from these bonds and I will help you.”

“I am tired of the maegi’s braying,” Dany told Jhogo. He took his whip to her, and after that the godswife kept silent.

[“]Please, Khaleesi. I know what you intend. Do not. Do not.”

“I must,” Dany told him. She touched his face, fondly, sadly. “You do not understand.”

“I understand that you loved him,” Ser Jorah said in a voice thick with despair. “I loved my lady wife once, yet I did not die with her. You are my queen, my sword is yours, but do not ask me to stand aside as you climb on Drogo’s pyre. I will not watch you burn.”

“Is that what you fear?” Dany kissed him lightly on his broad forehead. “I am not such a child as that, sweet ser.”

“You do not mean to die with him? You swear it, my queen?”

“I swear it,” she said in the Common Tongue of the Seven Kingdoms that by rights were hers.

The Dothraki were muttering and giving her strange sideways looks from the corners of their dark almond eyes. They thought her mad, Dany realized. Perhaps she was. She would know soon enough. If I look back I am lost.

“Bring my eggs,” Dany commanded her handmaids. Something in her voice made them run.

Ser Jorah took her arm. “My queen, Drogo will have no use for dragon’s eggs in the night lands. Better to sell them in Asshai. Sell one and we can buy a ship to take us back to the Free Cities. Sell all three and you will be a wealthy woman all your days.”

“They were not given to me to sell,” Dany told him.

She climbed the pyre herself to place the eggs around her sun-and-stars. The black beside his heart, under his arm. The green beside his head, his braid coiled around it. The cream-and-gold down between his legs.

As she climbed down off the pyre, she noticed Mirri Maz Duur watching her. “You are mad,” the godswife said hoarsely.

“Is it so far from madness to wisdom?” Dany asked. “Ser Jorah, take this maegi and bind her to the pyre.”

“I thank you, Mirri Maz Duur,” she said, “for the lessons you have taught me.”

“You will not hear me scream,” Mirri responded as the oil dripped from her hair and soaked her clothing.

“I will,” Dany said, “but it is not your screams I want, only your life. I remember what you told me. Only death can pay for life.” Mirri Maz Duur opened her mouth, but made no reply. As she stepped away, Dany saw that the contempt was gone from the maegi’s flat black eyes; in its place was something that might have been fear.

Then there was nothing to be done but watch the sun and look for the first star.

When a horselord dies, his horse is slain with him, so he might ride proud into the night lands. The bodies are burned beneath the open sky, and the khal rises on his fiery steed to take his place among the stars. The more fiercely the man burned in life, the brighter his star will shine in the darkness.

Jhogo spied it first. “There,” he said in a hushed voice. Dany looked and saw it, low in the east. The first star was a comet, burning red. Bloodred; fire red; the dragon’s tail. She could not have asked for a stronger sign.

Dany took the torch from Aggo’s hand and thrust it between the logs. The oil took the fire at once, the brush and dried grass a heartbeat later. Tiny flames went darting up the wood like swift red mice, skating over the oil and leaping from bark to branch to leaf. A rising heat puffed at her face, soft and sudden as a lover’s breath, but in seconds it had grown too hot to bear. Dany stepped backward. The wood crackled, louder and louder.

[...] She could smell the odor of burning flesh, no different than horseflesh roasting in a firepit. The pyre roared in the deepening dusk like some great beast, drowning out the fainter sound of Mirri Maz Duur’s screaming and sending up long tongues of flame to lick at the belly of the night. As the smoke grew thicker, the Dothraki backed away, coughing. Huge orange gouts of fire unfurled their banners in that hellish wind, the logs hissing and cracking, glowing cinders rising on the smoke to float away into the dark like so many newborn fireflies. The heat beat at the air with great red wings, driving the Dothraki back, driving off even Mormont, but Dany stood her ground. She was the blood of the dragon, and the fire was in her.

She had sensed the truth of it long ago, Dany thought as she took a step closer to the conflagration, but the brazier had not been hot enough. The flames writhed before her like the women who had danced at her wedding, whirling and singing and spinning their yellow and orange and crimson veils, fearsome to behold, yet lovely, so lovely, alive with heat. Dany opened her arms to them, her skin flushed and glowing. This is a wedding, too, she thought. Mirri Maz Duur had fallen silent. The godswife thought her a child, but children grow, and children learn.

Another step, and Dany could feel the heat of the sand on the soles of her feet, even through her sandals. Sweat ran down her thighs and between her breasts and in rivulets over her cheeks, where tears had once run. Ser Jorah was shouting behind her, but he did not matter anymore, only the fire mattered. The flames were so beautiful, the loveliest things she had ever seen, each one a sorcerer robed in yellow and orange and scarlet, swirling long smoky cloaks. She saw crimson firelions and great yellow serpents and unicorns made of pale blue flame; she saw fish and foxes and monsters, wolves and bright birds and flowering trees, each more beautiful than the last. She saw a horse, a great grey stallion limned in smoke, its flowing mane a nimbus of blue flame. Yes, my love, my sun-and-stars, yes, mount now, ride now.

Her vest had begun to smolder, so Dany shrugged it off and let it fall to the ground. The painted leather burst into sudden flame as she skipped closer to the fire, her breasts bare to the blaze, streams of milk flowing from her red and swollen nipples. Now, she thought, now, and for an instant she glimpsed Khal Drogo before her, mounted on his smoky stallion, a flaming lash in his hand. He smiled, and the whip snaked down at the pyre, hissing.

She heard a crack, the sound of shattering stone. The platform of wood and brush and grass began to shift and collapse in upon itself. Bits of burning wood slid down at her, and Dany was showered with ash and cinders. And something else came crashing down, bouncing and rolling, to land at her feet; a chunk of curved rock, pale and veined with gold, broken and smoking. The roaring filled the world, yet dimly through the firefall Dany heard women shriek and children cry out in wonder.

Only death can pay for life.

And there came a second crack, loud and sharp as thunder, and the smoke stirred and whirled around her and the pyre shifted, the logs exploding as the fire touched their secret hearts. She heard the screams of frightened horses, and the voices of the Dothraki raised in shouts of fear and terror, and Ser Jorah calling her name and cursing. No, she wanted to shout to him, no, my good knight, do not fear for me. The fire is mine. I am Daenerys Stormborn, daughter of dragons, bride of dragons, mother of dragons, don’t you see? Don’t you SEE? With a belch of flame and smoke that reached thirty feet into the sky, the pyre collapsed and came down around her. Unafraid, Dany stepped forward into the firestorm, calling to her children.

The third crack was as loud and sharp as the breaking of the world.

When the fire died at last and the ground became cool enough to walk upon, Ser Jorah Mormont found her amidst the ashes, surrounded by blackened logs and bits of glowing ember and the burnt bones of man and woman and stallion. She was naked, covered with soot, her clothes turned to ash, her beautiful hair all crisped away ... yet she was unhurt.

The cream-and-gold dragon was suckling at her left breast, the green-and-bronze at the right. Her arms cradled them close. The black-and-scarlet beast was draped across her shoulders, its long sinuous neck coiled under her chin. When it saw Jorah, it raised its head and looked at him with eyes as red as coals.

Wordless, the knight fell to his knees. The men of her khas came up behind him. Jhogo was the first to lay his arakh at her feet. “Blood of my blood,” he murmured, pushing his face to the smoking earth. “Blood of my blood,” she heard Aggo echo. “Blood of my blood,” Rakharo shouted.

And after them came her handmaids, and then the others, all the Dothraki, men and women and children, and Dany had only to look at their eyes to know that they were hers now, today and tomorrow and forever, hers as they had never been Drogo’s.

As Daenerys Targaryen rose to her feet, her black hissed, pale smoke venting from its mouth and nostrils. The other two pulled away from her breasts and added their voices to the call, translucent wings unfolding and stirring the air, and for the first time in hundreds of years, the night came alive with the music of dragons.

AGOT Daenerys IX

Wings shadowed her fever dreams. 

“You don’t want to wake the dragon, do you?”

She was walking down a long hall beneath high stone arches. She could not look behind her, must not look behind her. There was a door ahead of her, tiny with distance, but even from afar, she saw that it was painted red. She walked faster, and her bare feet left bloody footprints on the stone.

“You don’t want to wake the dragon, do you?”

She saw sunlight on the Dothraki sea, the living plain, rich with the smells of earth and death. Wind stirred the grasses, and they rippled like water. Drogo held her in strong arms, and his hand stroked her sex and opened her and woke that sweet wetness that was his alone, and the stars smiled down on them, stars in a daylight sky. “Home,” she whispered as he entered her and filled her with his seed, but suddenly the stars were gone, and across the blue sky swept the great wings, and the world took flame.

“... don’t want to wake the dragon, do you?”

Ser Jorah’s face was drawn and sorrowful. “Rhaegar was the last dragon,” he told her. He warmed translucent hands over a glowing brazier where stone eggs smouldered red as coals. One moment he was there and the next he was fading, his flesh colorless, less substantial than the wind. “The last dragon,” he whispered, thin as a wisp, and was gone. She felt the dark behind her, and the red door seemed farther away than ever.

“... don’t want to wake the dragon, do you?”

Viserys stood before her, screaming. “The dragon does not beg, slut. You do not command the dragon. I am the dragon, and I will be crowned.” The molten gold trickled down his face like wax, burning deep channels in his flesh. “I am the dragon and I will be crowned!” he shrieked, and his fingers snapped like snakes, biting at her nipples, pinching, twisting, even as his eyes burst and ran like jelly down seared and blackened cheeks.

“... don’t want to wake the dragon ... ”

The red door was so far ahead of her, and she could feel the icy breath behind, sweeping up on her. If it caught her she would die a death that was more than death, howling forever alone in the darkness. She began to run.

“... don’t want to wake the dragon ...”

She could feel the heat inside her, a terrible burning in her womb. Her son was tall and proud, with Drogo’s copper skin and her own silver-gold hair, violet eyes shaped like almonds. And he smiled for her and began to lift his hand toward hers, but when he opened his mouth the fire poured out. She saw his heart burning through his chest, and in an instant he was gone, consumed like a moth by a candle, turned to ash. She wept for her child, the promise of a sweet mouth on her breast, but her tears turned to steam as they touched her skin.

“... want to wake the dragon ...”

Ghosts lined the hallway, dressed in the faded raiment of kings. In their hands were swords of pale fire. They had hair of silver and hair of gold and hair of platinum white, and their eyes were opal and amethyst, tourmaline and jade. “Faster,” they cried, “faster, faster.” She raced, her feet melting the stone wherever they touched. “Faster!” the ghosts cried as one, and she screamed and threw herself forward. A great knife of pain ripped down her back, and she felt her skin tear open and smelled the stench of burning blood and saw the shadow of wings. And Daenerys Targaryen flew.

“... wake the dragon ...”

The door loomed before her, the red door, so close, so close, the hall was a blur around her, the cold receding behind. And now the stone was gone and she flew across the Dothraki sea, high and higher, the green rippling beneath, and all that lived and breathed fled in terror from the shadow of her wings. She could smell home, she could see it, there, just beyond that door, green fields and great stone houses and arms to keep her warm, there. She threw open the door.

“... the dragon ...”

And saw her brother Rhaegar, mounted on a stallion as black as his armor. Fire glimmered red through the narrow eye slit of his helm. “The last dragon,” Ser Jorah’s voice whispered faintly. “The last, the last.” Dany lifted his polished black visor. The face within was her own.

Flakes of ash drifted upward from a brazier, and Dany followed them with her eyes through the smoke hole above. Flying, she thought. I had wings, I was flying. But it was only a dream. “Help me,” she whispered, struggling to rise. “Bring me ...” Her voice was raw as a wound, and she could not think what she wanted. Why did she hurt so much? It was as if her body had been torn to pieces and remade from the scraps. “I want ...”

“Yes, Khaleesi.” Quick as that Jhiqui was gone, bolting from the tent, shouting. Dany needed ... something ... someone ... what? It was important, she knew. It was the only thing in the world that mattered. She rolled onto her side and got an elbow under her, fighting the blanket tangled about her legs. It was so hard to move. The world swam dizzily. I have to ...

They found her on the carpet, crawling toward her dragon eggs. [...]

“I must,” she tried to tell them, “I have to ...”

“ ... sleep, Princess,” Ser Jorah said.

“No,” Dany said. “Please. Please.”

“Bring ... I want to hold ...”

“Yes?” the maegi asked. “What is it you wish, Khaleesi?” 

“Bring me ... egg ... dragon’s egg ... please ... ” Her lashes turned to lead, and she was too weary to hold them up.

When she woke the third time, a shaft of golden sunlight was pouring through the smoke hole of the tent, and her arms were wrapped around a dragon’s egg. It was the pale one, its scales the color of butter cream, veined with whorls of gold and bronze, and Dany could feel the heat of it. Beneath her bedsilks, a fine sheen of perspiration covered her bare skin. Dragondew, she thought. Her fingers trailed lightly across the surface of the shell, tracing the wisps of gold, and deep in the stone she felt something twist and stretch in response. It did not frighten her. All her fear was gone, burned away.

My son is dead, she thought as Jhiqui left the tent. She had known somehow. She had known since she woke the first time to Jhiqui’s tears. No, she had known before she woke. Her dream came back to her, sudden and vivid, and she remembered the tall man with the copper skin and long silver-gold braid, bursting into flame.

She should weep, she knew, yet her eyes were dry as ash. She had wept in her dream, and the tears had turned to steam on her cheeks. All the grief has been burned out of me, she told herself. She felt sad, and yet ... she could feel Rhaego receding from her, as if he had never been.

Ser Jorah and Mirri Maz Duur entered a few moments later, and found Dany standing over the other dragon’s eggs, the two still in their chest. It seemed to her that they felt as hot as the one she had slept with, which was passing strange. “Ser Jorah, come here,” she said. She took his hand and placed it on the black egg with the scarlet swirls. “What do you feel?”

“Shell, hard as rock.” The knight was wary. “Scales.”

“Heat?”

“No. Cold stone.”

“When will he be as he was?” Dany demanded.

“When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east,” said Mirri Maz Duur. “When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. Then he will return, and not before.”

“When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east,” she said sadly. “When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When my womb quickens again, and I bear a living child. Then you will return, my sun-and-stars, and not before.”

Never, the darkness cried, never never never.

AGOT Daenerys VIII

The Dothraki were shouting, Mirri Maz Duur wailing inside the tent like nothing human, Quaro pleading for water as he died. Dany cried out for help, but no one heard. Rakharo was fighting Haggo, arakh dancing with arakh until Jhogo’s whip cracked, loud as thunder, the lash coiling around Haggo’s throat. A yank, and the bloodrider stumbled backward, losing his feet and his sword. Rakharo sprang forward, howling, swinging his arakh down with both hands through the top of Haggo’s head. The point caught between his eyes, red and quivering. Someone threw a stone, and when Dany looked, her shoulder was torn and bloody. “No,” she wept, “no, please, stop it, it’s too high, the price is too high.” More stones came flying. She tried to crawl toward the tent, but Cohollo caught her. Fingers in her hair, he pulled her head back and she felt the cold touch of his knife at her throat. “My baby,” she screamed, and perhaps the gods heard, for as quick as that, Cohollo was dead. Aggo’s arrow took him under the arm, to pierce his lungs and heart.

[...] The breath went out of her; it was all she could do to gasp. The sound of Mirri Maz Duur’s voice was like a funeral dirge. Inside the tent, the shadows whirled.

“Take her to the maegi.”

No, Dany wanted to say, no, not that, you mustn’t, but when she opened her mouth, a long wail of pain escaped, and the sweat broke over her skin. What was wrong with them, couldn’t they see? Inside the tent the shapes were dancing, circling the brazier and the bloody bath, dark against the sandsilk, and some did not look human. She glimpsed the shadow of a great wolf, and another like a man wreathed in flames.

[...] No, she shouted, or perhaps she only thought it, for no whisper of sound escaped her lips. She was being carried. Her eyes opened to gaze up at a flat dead sky, black and bleak and starless. Please, no. The sound of Mirri Maz Duur’s voice grew louder, until it filled the world. The shapes! she screamed. The dancers!

Ser Jorah carried her inside the tent.

AGOT Daenerys VI

She would not shiver with fear. The Usurper has woken the dragon now, she told herself ... and her eyes went to the dragon’s eggs resting in their nest of dark velvet. The shifting lamplight limned their stony scales, and shimmering motes of jade and scarlet and gold swam in the air around them, like courtiers around a king.

Was it madness that seized her then, born of fear? Or some strange wisdom buried in her blood? Dany could not have said. She heard her own voice saying, “Ser Jorah, light the brazier.” “Khaleesi?” The knight looked at her strangely. “It is so hot. Are you certain?” She had never been so certain. “Yes. I ... I have a chill. Light the brazier.”

He bowed. “As you command.”

When the coals were afire, Dany sent Ser Jorah from her. She had to be alone to do what she must do. This is madness, she told herself as she lifted the black-and-scarlet egg from the velvet. It will only crack and burn, and it’s so beautiful, Ser Jorah will call me a fool if I ruin it, and yet, and yet ...

Cradling the egg with both hands, she carried it to the fire and pushed it down amongst the burning coals. The black scales seemed to glow as they drank the heat. Flames licked against the stone with small red tongues. Dany placed the other two eggs beside the black one in the fire. As she stepped back from the brazier, the breath trembled in her throat.

She watched until the coals had turned to ashes. Drifting sparks floated up and out of the smokehole. Heat shimmered in waves around the dragon’s eggs. And that was all.

Your brother Rhaegar was the last dragon, Ser Jorah had said. Dany gazed at her eggs sadly. What had she expected? A thousand thousand years ago they had been alive, but now they were only pretty rocks. They could not make a dragon. A dragon was air and fire. Living flesh, not dead stone.

AGOT Daenerys V

“What does it mean?” she asked. “What is this stallion? Everyone was shouting it at me, but I don’t understand.”

“The stallion is the khal of khals promised in ancient prophecy, child. He will unite the Dothraki into a single khalasar and ride to the ends of the earth, or so it was promised. All the people of the world will be his herd.”

“Oh,” Dany said in a small voice.

AGOT Daenerys III

Yet when she slept that night, she dreamt the dragon dream again. Viserys was not in it this time. There was only her and the dragon. Its scales were black as night, wet and slick with blood. Her blood, Dany sensed. Its eyes were pools of molten magma, and when it opened its mouth, the flame came roaring out in a hot jet. She could hear it singing to her, She opened her arms to the fire, embraced it, let it swallow her whole, let it cleanse her and temper her and scour her clean. She could feel her flesh sear and blacken and slough away, could feel her blood boil and turn to steam, and yet there was no pain. She felt strong and new and fierce.

And the next day, strangely, she did not seem to hurt quite so much. It was as if the gods had heard her and taken pity. Even her handmaids noticed the change. “Khaleesi,” Jhiqui said, “what is wrong? Are you sick?”

“I was,” she answered, standing over the dragon’s eggs that Illyrio had given her when she wed. She touched one, the largest of the three, running her hand lightly over the shelf. Black-and-scarlet, she thought, like the dragon in my dream. The stone felt strangely warm beneath her fingers ... or was she still dreaming? She pulled her hand back nervously.

From that hour onward, each day was easier than the one before it. Her legs grew stronger; her blisters burst and her hands grew callused; her soft thighs toughened, supple as leather.

As she let the door flap close behind her, Dany saw a finger of dusty red light reach out to touch her dragon’s eggs across the tent. For an instant a thousand droplets of scarlet flame swam before her eyes. She blinked, and they were gone.

Stone, she told herself. They are only stone, even Illyrio said so, the dragons are all dead. She put her palm against the black egg, fingers spread gently across the curve of the shell. The stone was warm. Almost hot. “The sun,” Dany whispered. “The sun warmed them as they rode.” [...] “Have you ever seen a dragon?” she asked as Irri scrubbed her back and Jhiqui sluiced sand from her hair. She had heard that the first dragons had come from the east, from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai and the islands of the Jade Sea. Perhaps some were still living there, in realms strange and wild.

AGOT Daenerys II

There are no more dragons, Dany thought, staring at her brother, though she did not dare say it aloud.

Yet that night she dreamt of one. Viserys was hitting her, hurting her. She was naked, clumsy with fear. She ran from him, but her body seemed thick and ungainly. He struck her again. She stumbled and fell. “You woke the dragon,” he screamed as he kicked her. “You woke the dragon, you woke the dragon.” Her thighs were slick with blood. She closed her eyes and whimpered. As if in answer, there was a hideous ripping sound and the crackling of some great fire. When she looked again, Viserys was gone, great columns of flame rose all around, and in the midst of them was the dragon. It turned its great head slowly. When its molten eyes found hers, she woke, shaking and covered with a fine sheen of sweat. She had never been so afraid ...

... until the day of her wedding came at last.

#daenerys targaryen #a dance with dragons #a storm of swords #a clash of kings #a game of thrones #dany passages

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koalas-koalas-everywhere · 4 years

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You know what Astrid’s problem is? The writers are too scared to put her on equal ground with everyone else. They’re so concerned about making her a strong female that they sometimes forget to make her a character, like everyone else. (The same goes to Heather, although I’ll admit she’s a more tragic character, and they make up for it by giving her a bit more... unique characterization and beats? - still, they can’t even let her win 2 out of three games against Fishlegs and need her to have won all three) The only time I can remember the narrative making fun of her like it does with everyone else is in The Longest Day. Now, she’s blind, she could get herself and everyone else killed, but we’re supposed to think she’s, what, cool? For going against Hiccup’s advice/order? I mean, he has been non-assertive before, and he’s had bad ideas before, but this wasn’t one of those times. Now, there was no way she was staying (something we get to say about everyone else, too - no one would have stayed behind while their dragons were lost), but they framed the scene as if to say to the audience “Woah hoho, Hiccup thinks he can just give orders to Astrid? Our STRONG FEMALE??? He’s got another thing coming, right guys? *wink wink*” When, like, yeah? Unless he’s giving out bad orders, I expect them to be followed. So would Astrid. Remember A Grim Retreat? She thought they needed a vacation, too, but she didn’t say anything until she could get Hiccup alone, where she tried to reason with him.

Just, this isn’t about characterization. Think for a second about how that scene would have gone if it was anyone else. Hiccup would give the ultimatum, and then the other character would become emotionally vulnerable and convince him, eventually. But they give Astrid this scene... why? She’s never chafed against Hiccup’s leadership. But the writers think that the moment they make her explicitly wrong or lacking in anything, she won’t be strong anymore, or they’ll have millions of rabid fans at their throats because they made her weak. (not... an unfounded fear...) So the moments they make fun of her are either things she can’t control, like the euphoria in TLD, or stuff like her messy hair in Gruff Around the Edges. At most, they’ll make her too serious and have that cause trouble, like her fights with Snotlout and the twins, but notice how her only comedic beats seem to come from her own wit (again, same with Heather). And the things is, in a comedy? Where she’s not the protagonist, or main protagonist (like, Hiccup, who still gets made fun of, but not as much as the other teens), but one among six (or five, if you don’t count Hiccup, for the reason I just explained)? Unless you’re gonna give her plenty of character development (like Heather), or character driven episodes (like... everyone else in the show) she gets kind of plain. She’s not necessarily boring, but can anyone tell me scenes that made them like Astrid (not like, the scene, just something that’s memorable to you) where it’s not based on her being a badass (that’s not a personality) or her quips at Snotlout (that would just prove my point that, in a comedy, the most liked characters are the ones with comedic beats, which they mostly deprive Astrid of)? I’m sure that now that I’m asking you to, you might think of something, but, personally? When I think of an endearing Astrid scene, I think of her jokes in Tone Death, where she’s not just making quips, but really goofing around.

This is especially sad for me because I don’t think it’s a conscious decision to screw Astrid over, but the writers being too scared to do anything worthwhile with her for fear of provoking the hordes. But think about it for a moment: all the things the other teens are made fun of for are the things that give them episodes. Fishlegs is shier than the rest? Follow the Leader. Snotlout is a showboat? Not Lout and Turn and Burn. The twins get plenty of episodes because they’re so funny they can carry them on their own. I’m currently watching Blindsided, an Astrid episode, where they’re so confident in her ability to carry an episode focused on her... that they make sure that there’s plenty of Hiccstrid on it, so much so they actually get together.

All of this was about Astrid as a serious character in a comedy, but you know what, let’s talk about Astrid as a flawed character. So, compare her in this episode to Snotlout... always. She’s arrogant and dismissive of others, but that’s never treated as a character flaw because she’s actually competent... which, means, I guess, that she can treat others however she likes. Like, “I’ve been hearing you guys get your butts kicked and I’m sick of it!” and she’s not even smiling! It’s not just that she’s serious, it’s the writers wanting us to take her seriously when she says stuff like this. Again, compare it to Snotlout (because, really, sometimes the only difference between them seems to be that she can actually put her money where her mouth’s at. Just sometimes) in Not Lout. He was arrogant and competitive, but at the end of the ep, at least during the fight, he learned his lesson - he was humble, and dutiful.

I talk about this not because I have a problem with Astrid’s characterization, but because I disagree with the writers in the message I feel they’re trying to give us. It’s not that I don’t think she has visible flaws, it’s that I don’t think the writers acknowledge them. Which, I guess is awkward, since I’m sure that while I’m giving her character flak because the writers are putting her in a pedestal, there are probably others in the fandom who are giving her flak because they don’t like her flaws. I get that it might seem like an easily refutable argument, if you take all this to mean that I don’t think she has flaws, it’s not that - she has flaws, I just don’t think the writers address them. Like, the moment Hiccup starts to be more vindictive, we get Enemy of My Enemy. We got, how many episodes dealing with Astrid’s arrogance and aggression? That one where the twins stand up to her?

#rtte #Race to the Edge #Astrid Hofferson #Blindsided #httyd liveblogging #httyd

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iamdeltas · 4 years

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X, T and K?

X - top 5-10 characters who are yoUR PRECIOUS BABIES AND YOU WILL DIE DEFENDING THEM This depends a lot on what I’m focused on at the moment (also, not all my faves count. Generally if I feel like a fave character has enough fans to defend them or whatever, I’m not gonna feel like I need to defend them. For instance, Elsa. Does Elsa have her haters? Sure. But she’s also crazy popular, so who cares if a few people hate her? That’s why she’s not on this list, even if I do like her.) but here goes, not in order tbh, just off the top of my head: Kamala Khan, always my girl, I adore her so much and I saw a post one day talking shit about her and I wanted to throttle OP. Anyway. Kamala is the best. I cannot wait for her MCU debut. Cassandra, from Tangled: the Series. I adored Cass right from the start, and of course, right from the start, I saw people shitting on her for, IDK, daring to *gasp* not like Eugene, I guess? Wow. So yeah, I’ll die defending Cass, she’s the best, even if she made some bad choices in s3 but hey. Who hasn’t stolen an ancient powerful artifact and gotten manipulated by a demonic Eldritch being, amirite? Della Duck, from Ducktales. I adore Della, she’s such an interesting and complex character who has made her fair share of mistakes but is also trying her best. The whole discourse post-”Timephoon” really showed me that she’s a character I’d die defending as well because holy shit were people shitting all over her for... daring to ground Louie, her son, for literally causing a spacetime disaster because he wanted to make money. Sigh. Anyway. I adore Della. Anna of Arendelle, from Frozen. Oh, Anna. So many people just flat out ignore you in favor of your sister, which is so unfair. Anna is wonderful and determined and optimistic and honestly such a badass? Like that (sadly deleted) scene said, her love could hold up the world. (Fun fact, part of the reason I desperately wanted my brain to get off the Frozen traintrack it was, ah, frozen on from June 2019 to January 2020 was because it resulted in me fixating on how much people flat out do not care about Anna, which wasn’t a fun time!) I am very glad she gets to be part of the bridge with Elsa but am sadly unsurprised that people continue to ignore that and just insist that it’s only Elsa who’s the Powerful, Wonderful, Most Amazing Fifth Spirit. Anna who? Granted, the movie could have emphasized that it’s Elsa and Anna who are the Fifth Spirit, together, but still.

Alex Danvers, from Supergirl. Still my favorite character on the show! I don’t think she gets bashed as much as mostly just ignored? (I’d say poor Kara gets the brunt of the bashing. It’s very sad.) Unless Lena stans get confronted with the fact that their fave is doing some highly Unethical Things, then they start pointing to Alex for some reason and start saying, Yeah Well, Alex Works For A Shady Government Organization, So Who’s The *Real* Bad Guy Here? (Me: ....it’s still Lena, but go off, I guess.) I guess I just generally relate to her overwhelming Big Sister-ness and the high pressure she puts on herself because what a Mood, amirite? I feel that whole, anxiety that your parents will be disappointed in you because I feel that every day! I also adore how dedicated she is and how smart she is (something the fandom and the show often seem to ignore...) Connie Maheswaran, from Steven Universe. She’s the best! And she was totally the MVP of Steven Universe: Future, telling off all the Gems for making Steven’s problems about them because that was the last thing Steven needed! She’s practical and smart but at the same time so adventurous and brave and willing to stand up to protect the Earth! It’s very admirable. Steven Universe, from... you know. I’ve always liked Steven but I think Future gave me a greater appreciation for this kid. This poor kid has had to grow up so fast and basically play therapist for his Gem moms as well as for Gems who literally tried to kill him multiple times. His compassion is so admirable but wow did it result in him putting himself last! I have a soft spot for these types of characters, the characters who care so much about other people that they forget to care about themselves. (Alex Danvers is in this category also.) I know some people got mad about his downward spiral in Future, but honestly the complaints just strike me as being mad that Steven dares to have his own problems as opposed to being the Happy Boy Therapist Who Fixes Everyone Else’s Problems And Has Zero Problems Of His Own. Martha Jones, from Doctor Who. Oh, Martha Jones, you’re a star. I had a group of college friends who I watched Doctor Who with back in the day, and they hated Martha. (Most notable exchange: one of said friends saying that she thought Martha was just “too smart” to be relatable. Said friend was a physics major.) I hope the Martha hate has cooled down now because Martha always deserves so much appreciation. She had to put up with so much in s3 (incidentally, I think about s3 sometimes and I wonder why the fuck 10 is my favorite Doctor. Honestly, he’s such a dick in s3. Martha Deserved Better.), and I’m so glad she was able to be one of the few companions in NuWho with a nontraumatic exit. I hope she’s living her best life, wherever she might be now. Ninth Doctor, from Doctor Who. Gosh I love Nine. Those same college friends who hated Martha also told me to skip s1, and I’m very glad I did not listen to them. I’ve always liked Jerks with Hearts of Gold, and Nine definitely is that! I just adore how while he had such a gruff and battle-scarred demeanor, he was so sweet and genuinely kind. He’s a puppy in a leather jacket! And not only can he be genuinely soft and sweet, but he’s also just so silly sometimes? Absolutely not what you’d expect from his general appearance but he can be quite a goofball! I love that for him! And while I may not like Doctor/Rose as a ship (honestly I just don’t tend to like Doctor/companion ships at all), his relationship with Rose was so sweet. I also just enjoy that, underneath all the weariness and the surface-level cynicism, he is actually very optimistic. Twelfth Doctor, honestly, same deal as Nine. I’m very annoyed with people who dismiss him as being the Grumpy Doctor because he’s just so genuinely kind and compassionate? He might genuinely be one of the most compassionate Doctors I’ve ever seen. He even extends kindness to his worst enemies. There’s something really beautiful about that. Being kind, even when it might ultimately backfire on you and might not even work, because why not try? He’s just a punk rock grandpa trying his best, how can you hate that? He’s got some sick guitaring skills btw. He should join a band. (I know Peter Capaldi is in a band, so that just makes me want 12 to be in a band even more.) Sometimes I think there should be a band in the Whoniverse made up of some of the Doctor’s regens but then I get stuck on who’d be in it besides 12. Maybe 2 can be in it, with his weird flute thing. Anyway. His relationship with Clara was great (mostly because of how destructive and codependent it was lmao) but I just genuinely adore his connection with Bill. I’m always here for found family, and Bill being 12′s Earth granddaughter just warms my heart so much! Thirteenth Doctor, but actually the opposite deal of Nine and Twelve. I once saw a post saying that most Doctors can be split into one of two categories: grump with a heart of gold or charming goofball with a dark side. And, despite the two characters I just listed being in the former category, I think I tend to prefer the latter? Mostly because I see plenty of Jerks With Hearts of Gold but I feel like I don’t see as many heroic charming goofballs with a dark side. Anyway, that’s absolutely what 13 is, and I appreciate the layers that she has and am constantly annoyed at people who only see her surface level cheeriness and think that’s all there is to her. I really love it when characters Aren’t What They Seem and 13 exemplifies that. To borrow a phrase from a post I saw a very long time ago, 13 is so facile. She’s so physical, taking up so much space and constantly moving, but is so touch-averse. She talks so much and is very friendly, but is incredibly emotionally constipated and keeps even her so-called best friends at an arms length. She talks a lot about hope and compassion, but boy can she be hella violent and feral! Love That For Her. T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending, about anything at all (gender identity, sexual or romantic orientation, extended family, sexual preferences like top/bottom/switch, relationship with poetry, seriously anything) Oh absolutely. Off the top of my head: Cassandra is a lesbian. And that’s that on that. 13 is touch-averse! (Also stop yelling that she needs a hug! She doesn’t want one! It’s okay to not want hugs, that’s not a crime!) Alex can cook. Cooking isn’t even that hard? K -Say something nice about someone in any of your fandoms Ooh, this is hard cuz there are a lot of people in any of my fandoms that I feel like I can say nice things about! Let’s go with Supergirl since I’ve been neglecting that fandom a lot. Uh. I adore @wizardofahz ‘s fics about the Superfam! I’m always craving more gen fic and she delivers! I love her characterizations of everyone, especially her characterizations of Alex and Kara.

#s answers asks #cauldronofmorning

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buckymcbuttfacebarnes · 6 years

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a month is too long

summary: together bucky barnes and y/n must deal with feelings of love and loss

word count: 3142

a/n: its a sad one, but its sweet so strap in ladies. if yall have any requests pleathe send them my way

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You don’t know why you went to the diner of all places. You hadn’t been there in months. Three to be exact. Maybe you went because you knew it was where he would look for you first.

Whatever the reason, it served as a nice reprieve from the nasty weather outside. The door chimes when you walk in. You breathe in deep, the smell of freshly brewed coffee makes you relax. Your shoulders, unintentionally squared, relax and slump as you settle into your booth. The same booth you always used to sit in.

“What can I get for you, hun?” The familiar waitress pulls out a small notepad and her pen. You like the color of her hair, a bright artificial shade of red that matches the diner’s interior. You wonder if it’s intentional. You don’t ask. “Oh my gosh, Y/N! It’s you! I hardly recognized you, sweetheart, I haven’t seen you in months! We were startin’ to think you ran off on us and found a new diner. Is it gonna be the usual this morning?”

“Yeah, Donna. Same old, same old,” you answer kindly, fiddling with the band on your ring finger.

“All right, I’ll go get you some coffee and put your order in.” She lingers though, her lip twitches. She taps an acrylic nail on the table’s surface. Donna always kept them long. “Oh, goodness I almost forgot to ask,” her grin is wide and warm, you hate the sick feeling that rises in your throat as you anticipate her question, “How’s the baby doing?”

“He’s doin’ great,” you smile and nod.

She places her hand on her hip. Seeming to notice your apprehension she asks, “Hey, you alright, hun?”

You shake your head and wave your hand with a polite dismissal. “Oh, I’m fine. Just tired, baby kept me up.”

The box-dye redhead smiles knowingly, then touches a plump hand gently to your shoulder, wet still with the rain outside, “Take that coat off, will you? Don’t wanna catch a cold.”

You both look up when the bell that hangs above the door jingles loudly.

Soaked from the rain and angry, Bucky marches, boots squelching, to your booth. You couldn’t look away even though he was the last person you wanted to be seeing. Silence thick enough to cut through settles when he looks to Donna, it takes her a moment to realize that this is her cue to leave.

“Get up.” His voice is gruff, it makes your insides rattle. He doesn’t even look at you when he speaks, his eyes are flitting around the restaurant. “We’re leaving, we need to talk.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes are wild, light blue irises seemed clouded and foggy. He hadn’t slept last night, or maybe any night for the past month. A drop of water drips from his hair, pulled back from his face, onto his jacket.

His lips are set in a hard line, but he doesn’t say a word. Beneath the cold, hard planes of his handsome face you know that he is seething. He was always like this, an explosive temper, explosive everything. When he was happy everyone in the room felt it, when he was angry it radiated off of him like an unpleasant heat.

He grabs hold of your sleeve and gives you a warning look. You wonder if he was capable of yanking you up out of your seat. Would he drag you out of the diner and force you to talk to him? To hear him out? You weren’t willing to find out.

“Everything okay here?” Donna’s sweet voice interrupts your thoughts. In her hand is a steaming mug of coffee, she looks between the both of you. Brown eyes flicker back and forth warily.

In the stiff silence you look at Bucky, who reluctantly unfurls his fingers from their hold on your jacket sleeve. He steps back awkwardly, allowing space for the older waitress to lean in and place your mug gently onto the table.

She eyes him coldly before she turns. She glances back at you and sends you a look that seems to say: let me know.

Your voice is low when you speak, “You can sit the fuck down or get out, I don’t care which. But I’m not going anywhere with you, you understand?”

After a quiet moment of contemplation, he peels off his soaked outer shell and throws it haphazardly into the both before he slides in. He exhales loudly through his nose, reclines in the seat, he crosses his arms and allows his hands to settle comfortably in the warmth of his armpits. He wears a worn henley, one that he’s had for years and refuses to give up. A few times you had stolen it from his closet to keep for yourself. You liked the way it smelled (spicy and warm, it smelled like him) the way it hung on your body, stretched out and cozy from his wide shoulders and strong arms. He always stole it back from you.

Finally, for what feels like the first time this morning, he looks at you with those stormy eyes.

There you are, you think fondly. If it were another morning, a morning a month ago perhaps, you would have smiled and reached out to hold his hand across the table. Or maybe lean across the table to give him a chaste kiss. But it’s not a morning a month ago, it’s a morning now, and so you sit there and watch his cloudy gaze roam your face, searching.

You wonder if anyone else notices the ring of dark blue around his iris. Does anyone else notice that? The animalistic quality in his eyes. The way they dart around nervously, angrily. Daring anyone to challenge him. He sighs again.

“You know, I don’t think I’ll ever forget the day I met you.”

“What?”

You can’t hide your surprise.

“I won’t ever forget the day I met you,” he says again. His voice is shrouded in a softness that you hadn’t heard in a long time. “You remember don’t you? Here in this very booth—” runs his fingers along the red vinyl seat covering, gaze unwavering, “—I saw you. Just sitting here, plowing through cup after cup of coffee. And I thought: Man, what could a girl like that have to be so amped up about? What could you possibly need that much coffee for? And so I walked over and just asked you, cause I had to know doll. I just had to, I don’t know why.”

You remembered the way he had seemed to glide over to you. Hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, a cocksure smirk curled at his pink lips, half hidden by a neatly kept beard.

“And you remember what you said when I asked?”

You nod, your eyes flicker away, embarrassed by the memory.

“You said: Fuck off.”

Donna arrives with your plate of food. Four big slices of french toast and three slices of bacon half hidden by a pile of steaming scrambled eggs.

“Donna,” Bucky calls as she turns away. She is hesitant to turn back around, you both can tell. “Could you get me a cup of coffee, please?”

She turns her head and nods, her smile is sugary sweet, intentionally artificial. “Sure thing, James.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

She’d never really liked him. Always thought he was terribly too charming.

When she’s gone you look back at the handsome man that sits across from you. You find the sudden ease in his expression alarming. “I’m not in the mood for this.”

He thieves a piece of bacon from your plate and raises his brows: What do you mean?

You don’t indulge him and his play at faux cluelessness. You know what he wants. He wants to get you to talk.

Neither of you like the silence, but the both of you are much too stubborn to be the one to break it. So you eat, chewing slowly and self-consciously. His eyes never leave you and you hate him for it. Your gaze flicks upwards for only moments at a time, catching his gaze. He watches you with a look that might be characterized as concern...worry. Maybe love. It was easy to confuse the two sometimes.

“Take off your coat, it’s wet. It’ll get you sick,” he orders harshly.

You do, but only because Donna had told you the same thing earlier.

He sips his coffee. You sip yours. He sighs, you swallow. When Donna returns to fill your mugs, you both thank her, then return to your silence.

He doesn’t speak again until you’ve finished eating.

“Can we leave now?”

“I told you I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“I haven’t seen you in three weeks. Three weeks, doll.”

His cheeks are pink and there is a pleading look in his eyes. Your son probably would have had the same look. The same eyes as his dad...maybe not the same color. But similar in a way that you could see his whole life through his eyes. The pain, the joy, the love, the melancholy. You wondered if you once may have looked into your son’s eyes and seen everything as you did with Bucky’s.

“I’m trying to give you space, but I can’t. You don’t get to just fucking drop off the face of the earth. Almost a fucking month,” he reiterates. “That’s too much time to go without seeing my wife.”

He is tired, he is exhausted. You see it in the scarlet bruises that have appeared beneath his eyes and in the downward curvature of his lips. You see it in the way he holds his shoulders squared and how his eyes flicker back and forth. You see it in the way he feigns relaxation and coolness. You see it in the way his beard has grown long, the haphazard manner in which the hairs lie.

You hadn’t seen him in three weeks because you hadn’t wanted to. You went into hiding at your mother’s house, refused to see him when he showed up at the front door. But now, here he was and you wished that you hadn’t been so stubborn. Maybe seeing his face would have eased the ache in your stomach. You want to reach out and touch him. His lips, his face, his hands. But you can’t. You were too far away from him, cast out into an ocean unknown, there was no way to get back.

“Baby,” you hear him murmur, tugging you from your reverie. “Please.”

How could you say no to him when he was begging you to come back? When he looked so tired and boyish? When he looked like what your son might have looked like?

“Okay,” you finally say.

There are tears that shine in his eyes. He is so relieved. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

When he tugs you down the sidewalk, you clasp his hand in your own as if your afraid you might get lost somehow in the city you’d lived in all your life. As if he might let you slip from his grasp and you’d be gone forever. It would be so easy for you to just slip away, part of you was already lost. A ghost of whatever used to be the rest of you had died almost a month ago.

“I don’t think I can go in.”

You don’t mean to cry like this, before you can even go inside. But you do. The tears are hot and they come down your cheeks in gushing streams.

Bucky reaches out, his flesh hand is rough against your skin, the other smooth and cool. His thumbs move back and forth soothingly over your skin. “Shh,” he murmurs.

You squeeze your eyes shut and reach for him, and he’s there, ready for you. His jacket is wet against your cheek. You can feel his breath fanning across the top of your head, gentle stuttering breaths that come slowly.

“Y/N,” he whispers, “Please.”

“I can’t, I can’t,” you shake your head.

“Look at me.” His voice grows hard, “Look at me.”

You know he doesn’t mean to sound so harsh, so you send your gaze upwards and look into his broken face. You almost shudder at the sight of him. You hate how weak it makes you feel. This was your fault.

His lip trembles, you wish you could kiss his melancholy away.

“I can’t lose you too,” his head inclines towards yours, and his forehead rests against yours. “I can’t.”

You swallow hard, you have to close your eyes because you can’t bear to look at him.

“Please—” his voice is just above a whisper, so quiet that you could barely hear him “—just come home to me.” His hands are on your face again, touching your cheeks and wiping your tears. “Look at me.”

When you open your eyes his brows are furrowed, face open and expectant.

“Please.”

You nod because you know how much he needs you. Because it’s written across his face and in his hands. His eyes glitter with a hope that makes them seem all the more somber. This was your fault.

You watch as he turns the key in the lock and opens the door. He lets you walk in first, trailing awkwardly after you. Both of you are unsure of how to act. How to walk around as if the place was your own again. So you just stand there. You can feel his eyes on you and it makes you feel worse.

Your eyes flicker to the coffee table, corners covered. Baby proofed. You didn’t need those anymore.

“I don’t want to be here.”

Your coat is still on.

His is already hung up by the door.

“This is our home.”

The sigh that leaves your lips is shaky, an attempt to hold back another spell of tears waiting behind your eyes. There is a silver rattle that lies haphazardly on the floor, probably his doing. You bend to pick it up, but the flinch away from it. You didn’t want it.

“I can’t stay here, Bucky.”

“Y/N—”

“Buck, don’t you get it? I can’t do this. I can’t be here with all this baby stuff, I can’t do it. It hurts so—”

“You think I don’t know that?” His voice is so loud, it sucks all the air out of the room. “You think I don’t feel that? Everyday, Y/N, every fucking day, I’m the one that’s here. I’m the one that sees the fucking rattles, the baby clothes, the stupid fucking child locks on our cabinets! I see all of it, you think I don’t feel that? What you feel? I feel it every day. I didn’t get to run away like you did. I don’t get to pretend that this didn’t happen to us, I live with it everyday—” his voice cracks and he heaves a quaking breath, willing himself not to breakdown, “—Just like you do. The only difference between me and you is that I don’t try to act like this didn’t happen to us. Like he didn’t happen to us. That was our son, you can’t just try to forget!”

“I’m not trying to forget him!” You shout. You could never forget. You would never forget. “I just don’t know what else to do, Bucky!” You hate how desperate you sound, like you’re pleading for him to believe you. “A mother...a mother is supposed to keep her kids safe, that’s her only fucking job and I couldn’t even do that for nine months! Bucky, I couldn’t even keep our baby alive long enough for us to even need the fucking child locks and the fucking baby proofing bullshit. How am I supposed to live with that?”

When he reaches out to you, you reel back as if you feel repulsed, but truthfully you just felt undeserving. It wounds him, but you can’t help it. You don’t deserve him.

There is a lump in your throat that you struggle to swallow around.

“But that wasn’t your fault! It wasn’t your fault, it’s never been your fault.” He looks crazed, as if his brain is reeling with all the things he could do to make you understand. There was nothing that would truly make you feel better except yourself. The day you stopped blaming yourself was the day everything would go back to normal. “You have to stop blaming yourself for this. And if not for you, then for me. What about me, doll? I need you! And you need me. You can’t keep trying to go through this on your own! It’s not going to get any better. Acting like it didn’t happen isn’t going to make things better. Acting like it didn’t happen won’t bring him back.”

He tries again to reach out to you and pull you against him.

“Don’t touch me!”

But you don’t fight him. You don’t have it in you. You let him peel off your jacket, letting it slide off your arms and onto the hardwood flooring. And when he hugs you, you go limp in his arms, but he holds you up as he always does. As he always has. And when you begin to cry again he lifts you up and brings you to your bedroom. He kisses your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your lips. His hands move soothingly across your skin as sobs rack your body.

“I’m sorry I did this to us,” you whimper. It sounds so pitiful that you wish that somehow you could go back and time and figure out a way. A loophole. How could I bring him back?

“Stop blaming yourself for things that are out of your control,” he whispers back.

“I wish he was here.”

“Me too, baby.”

“He would have been handsome, like you,” you say after a long silence. Bucky has his hands on your back, legs entangled with yours. Bodies are perfectly intertwined, you feel so warm. You reach up to push your fingers through the coarseness of his unruly beard. Blindly you touch his lips, he kisses your fingertips. You feel his lips curl into a smile and you draw your hand back. Your chest blooms with a warmth that you hadn’t felt in a month. For the first time the pulsating ache in your head and heart seems to be alleviated. Just for that moment where he kisses your fingertips and one of his hands traces lines down the length of your spine.

“He would have been smart like you. Funny too.”

“You think so?”

“I do.”

The sound of his heart is just beneath your ear and you feel closer to Bucky than you ever have. You love him so much.

“I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry I wouldn’t see you.”

He shakes his head, “You’re here now…Just stay, okay? Don’t leave me again.”

“I won’t.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky angst #bucky fanfic #marvel fanfiction #bucky imagine #james buchanan barnes

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irelia-ad · 5 years

Text

Irelia’s Flaws

Absent-minded - Preoccupied to the extent of being unaware of one’s immediate surroundings. Abstracted, daydreaming, inattentive, oblivious, forgetful.

Abusive - Characterized by improper infliction of physical or psychological maltreatment towards another. (Depends on which Knight you ask)

Addict - One who is addicted to a compulsive activity. Examples: gambling, drugs, sex. (If you count the magical addiction)

Aimless - Devoid of direction or purpose.

Alcoholic - A person who drinks alcoholic substances habitually and to excess.

Anxious - Full of mental distress or uneasiness because of fear of danger or misfortune; greatly worried; solicitous. (Under some moods and private company)

Arrogant - Having or displaying a sense of overbearing self-worth or self-importance. Inclined to social exclusiveness and who rebuff the advances of people considered inferior. Snobbish.

Audacious - Recklessly bold in defiance of convention, propriety, law, or the like; insolent; braze, disobedient.

Bad Habit - A revolting personal habit. Examples: picks nose, spits tobacco, drools, bad body odour.

Bigmouth - A loud-mouthed or gossipy person.

Bigot - One who is strongly partial to one’s own group, religion, race, or politics and is intolerant of those who differ. (Comes close to it anyway)

Blunt - Characterized by directness in manner or speech; without subtlety or evasion. Frank, callous, insensitive, brusque.

Bold - In a bad sense, too forward; taking undue liberties; over assuming or confident; lacking proper modesty or restraint; rude; impudent. Abrupt, brazen, cheeky, brassy, audacious.

Callous - They are hardened to emotions, rarely showing any form of it in expression. Unfeeling. Cold. (Towards most people, not all)

Childish - Marked by or indicating a lack of maturity; puerile.

Complex - An exaggerated or obsessive concern or fear.

Cruel - Mean to anyone or anything, without care or regard to consequences and feelings.

Cursed - A person who has befallen a prayer for evil or misfortune, placed under a spell, or borne into an evil circumstance, and suffers for it. Damned.

Dependent - Unable to exist, sustain oneself, or act appropriately or normally without the assistance or direction of another.

Deranged - Mentally decayed. Insane. Crazy. Mad. Psychotic.

Dishonest – Given to or using fraud, cheating; deceitful, deceptive, crooked, underhanded.

Disloyal - Lacking loyalty. Unfaithful, perfidious, traitorous, treasonable.

Disorder - An ailment that affects the function of mind or body. See the Mental Disorder List.

Disturbed - Showing some or a few signs or symptoms of mental or emotional illness. Confused, disordered, neurotic, troubled. (Perhaps less so now than before)

Dubious - Fraught with uncertainty or doubt. Undecided, doubtful, unsure.

Dyslexic - Affected by dyslexia, a learning disorder marked by impairment of the ability to recognize and comprehend written words.

Egotistical - Characteristic of those having an inflated idea of their own importance. Boastful, pompous.

Envious - Showing extreme cupidity; painfully desirous of another’s advantages; covetous, jealous.

Erratic - Deviating from the customary course in conduct or opinion; eccentric: erratic behaviour. Eccentric, bizarre, outlandish, strange.

Fanatical - Fanatic outlook or behaviour especially as exhibited by excessive enthusiasm, unreasoning zeal, or wild and extravagant notions on some subject.

Fickle – Erratic, changeable, unstable - especially with regard to affections or attachments; capricious.

Fierce - Marked by extreme intensity of emotions or convictions; inclined to react violently; fervid.

Finicky - Excessively particular or fastidious; difficult to please; fussy. Too much concerned with detail. Meticulous, fastidious, choosy, critical, picky, prissy, pernickety.

Fixated - In psychoanalytic theory, a strong attachment to a person or thing, especially such an attachment formed in childhood or infancy and manifested in immature or neurotic behaviour that persists throughout life. Fetish, quirk, obsession, infatuation.

Flirt -To make playfully romantic or sexual overtures; behaviour intended to arouse sexual interest. Minx. Tease.

Gluttonous - Given to excess in consumption of especially food or drink. Voracious, ravenous, wolfish, piggish, insatiable.

Gruff - Brusque or stern in manner or appearance. Crusty, rough, surly.

Gullible - Will believe any information given, regardless of how valid or truthful it is, easily deceived or duped.

Hard - A person who is difficult to deal with, manage, control, overcome, or understand. Hard emotions, hard-hearted.

Hedonistic - Pursuit of or devotion to pleasure, especially to the pleasures of the senses.

Hoity-toity - Given to flights of fancy; capricious; frivolous. Prone to giddy behaviour, flighty.

Humourless - The inability to find humour in things, and most certainly in themselves.

Hypocritical - One who is always contradicting their own beliefs, actions or sayings. A person who professes beliefs and opinions for others that he does not hold. Being a hypocrite.

Idealist - One whose conduct is influenced by ideals that often conflict with practical considerations. One who is unrealistic and impractical, guided more by ideals than by practical considerations.

Idiotic - Marked by a lack of intelligence or care; foolish or careless.

Ignorant - Lacking knowledge or information as to a particular subject or fact. Showing or arising from a lack of education or knowledge.

Illiterate - Unable to read and write.

Immature - Emotionally undeveloped; juvenile; childish.

Impatient - Unable to wait patiently or tolerate delay; restless. Unable to endure irritation or opposition; intolerant.

Impious - Lacking piety and reverence for a god/gods and their followers.

Impish - Naughtily or annoyingly playful.

Incompetent - Unable to execute tasks, no matter how the size or difficulty.

Indecisive - Characterized by lack of decision and firmness, especially under pressure.

Indifferent - The trait of lacking enthusiasm for or interest in things generally, remaining calm and seeming not to care; a casual lack of concern. Having or showing little or no interest in anything; languid; spiritless.

Infamy - Having an extremely bad reputation, public reproach, or strong condemnation as the result of a shameful, criminal, or outrageous act that affects how others view them.

Intolerant - Unwilling to tolerate difference of opinion and narrow-minded about cherished opinions.

Judgmental - Inclined to make and form judgments, especially moral or personal ones, based on one’s own opinions or impressions towards others/practices/groups/religions based on appearance, reputation, occupation, etc.

Klutz - Clumsy. Blunderer.

Lazy - Resistant to work or exertion; disposed to idleness.

Lewd - Inclined to, characterized by, or inciting to lust or lechery; lascivious. Obscene or indecent, as language or songs; salacious.

Liar - Compulsively and purposefully tells false truths more often than not. A person who has lied or who lies repeatedly.

Lustful - Driven by lust; preoccupied with or exhibiting lustful desires.

Masochist - The deriving of sexual gratification, or the tendency to derive sexual gratification, from being physically or emotionally abused. A willingness or tendency to subject oneself to unpleasant or trying experiences.

Meddlesome - Intrusive in a meddling or offensive manner, given to meddling; interfering.

Meek - Evidencing little spirit or courage; overly submissive or compliant; humble in spirit or manner; suggesting retiring mildness or even cowed submissiveness.

Megalomaniac - A psychopathological condition characterized by delusional fantasies of wealth, power, or omnipotence. (Not Irelia, but this certainly fits my Spellbreaker)

Naïve - Lacking worldly experience and understanding, simple and guileless; showing or characterized by a lack of sophistication and critical judgement.

Nervous - Easily agitated or distressed; high-strung or jumpy.

Non-violent - Abstaining from the use of violence.

Nosey - Given to prying into the affairs of others; snoopy. Offensively curious or inquisitive.

Obsessive - An unhealthy and compulsive preoccupation with something or someone.

Oppressor - A person of authority who subjects others to undue pressures, to keep down by severe and unjust use of force or authority.

Overambitious - Having a strong excessive desire for success or achievement.

Overconfident - Excessively confident; presumptuous.

Overemotional - Excessively or abnormally emotional. Sensitive about themselves and others, more so than the average person.

Overprotective - To protect too much; coddle.

Overzealous - Marked by excessive enthusiasm for and intense devotion to a cause or idea.

Pacifist - Opposition to war or violence as a means of resolving disputes. (Can double as a merit in certain cases)

Paranoid - Exhibiting or characterized by extreme and irrational fear or distrust of others.

Peevish - Expressing fretfulness and discontent, or unjustifiable dissatisfaction. Cantankerous, cross, ill-tempered, testy, captious, discontented, crotchety, cranky, ornery.

Perfectionist - A propensity for being displeased with anything that is not perfect or does not meet extremely high standards.

Pessimist - A tendency to stress the negative or unfavorable or to take the gloomiest possible view.

Pest - One that pesters or annoys, with or without realizing it. Nuisance. Annoying. Nag.

Phobic – They have a severe form of fear when it comes to this one thing. Examples: Dark, Spiders, Cats

Practical - Level-headed, efficient, and non speculative. No-nonsense.

Predictable - Easily seen through and assessable, where almost anyone can predict reactions and actions of said person by having met or known them even for a short time.

Proud - Filled with or showing excessive self-esteem and will often shirk help from others for the sake of pride.

Rebellious - Defying or resisting some established authority, government, or tradition; insubordinate; inclined to rebel.

Reckless - Heedless. Headstrong. Foolhardy. Unthinking boldness, wild carelessness and disregard for consequences.

Remorseless - Without remorse; merciless; pitiless; relentless.

Rigorous - Rigidly accurate; allowing no deviation from a standard; demanding strict attention to rules and procedures.

Sadist - The deriving of gratification or the tendency to derive gratification from inflicting pain or emotional abuse on others. Deriving of pleasure, or the tendency to derive pleasure, from cruelty.

Sadomasochist - Both sadist and masochist combined.

Sarcastic - A subtle form of mockery in which an intended meaning is conveyed obliquely.

Skeptic - One who instinctively or habitually doubts, questions, or disagrees with assertions or generally accepted conclusions.

Seducer - To lead others astray, as from duty, rectitude, or the like; corrupt. To attempt to lead or draw someone away, as from principles, faith, or allegiance.

Selfish - Concerned chiefly or only with oneself.

Self-Martyr - One who purposely makes a great show of suffering in order to arouse sympathy from others, as a form of manipulation, and always for a selfish cause or reason.

Self-righteous - Piously sure of one’s own righteousness; moralistic. Exhibiting pious self-assurance. Holier-than-thou, sanctimonious.

Senile - Showing a decline or deterioration of physical strength or mental functioning, esp. short-term memory and alertness, as a result of old age or disease.

Shallow - Lacking depth of intellect or knowledge; concerned only with what is obvious.

Smart Ass - Thinks they know it all, and in some ways they may, but they can be greatly annoying and difficult to deal with at times, especially in arguments.

Soft-hearted - Having softness or tenderness of heart that can lead them into trouble; susceptible of pity or other kindly affection. They cannot resist helping someone they see in trouble, suffering or in need, and often don’t think of the repercussions or situation before doing so.

Solemn - Deeply earnest, serious, and sober.

Spineless - Lacking courage. Cowardly, wimp, lily-livered, gutless.

Spiteful - Showing malicious ill will and a desire to hurt; motivated by spite; vindictive person who will look for occasions for resentment. Vengeful.

Spoiled - Treated with excessive indulgence and pampering from earliest childhood, and has no notion of hard work, self-care or money management; coddled, pampered. Having the character or disposition harmed by pampering or over-solicitous attention.

Squeamish - Excessively fastidious and easily disgusted.

Stubborn - Unreasonably, often perversely unyielding; bull-headed. Firmly resolved or determined; resolute.

Superstitious - An irrational belief arising from ignorance or fear from an irrational belief that an object, action, or circumstance not logically related to a course of events influences its outcome.

Tactless - Lacking or showing a lack of what is fitting and considerate in dealing with others.

Temperamental - Moody, irritable, or sensitive. Excitable, volatile, emotional.

Theatrical - Having a flair for over dramatizing situations, doing things in a ‘big way’ and love to be ‘centre stage’.

Timid -Tends to be shy and/or quiet, shrinking away from offering opinions or from strangers and newcomers, fearing confrontations and violence.

Tongue-tied - Speechless or confused in expression, as from shyness, embarrassment, or astonishment.

Troublemaker - Someone who deliberately stirs up trouble, intentionally or unintentionally.

Unlucky - Marked by or causing misfortune; ill-fated. Destined for misfortune; doomed.

Unpredictable - Difficult to foretell or foresee, their actions are so chaotic it’s impossible to know what they are going to do next.

Untrustworthy - Not worthy of trust or belief. Backstabber.

Vain - Holding or characterized by an unduly high opinion of their physical appearance. Lovers of themselves. Conceited, egotistic, narcissistic.

Weak-willed - Lacking willpower, strength of will to carry out one’s decisions, wishes, or plans. Easily swayed.

Withdrawn - Not friendly or Sociable. Aloof.

Zealous - A fanatic.

Tagged by: @ask-silverfire Thanks for this one. An interesting list to read through!

#About Irelia #Reblog #Tagged #Thingy #Words #Flaws

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what-lovely-scales-fandom · 5 years

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It's fascinating to me who gets prioritized in those old posts "It's okay to like characters who do bad things, but don't pretend they didn't do those bad things." Because from what I've seen it's usually aimed at fans who. Don't pretend they didn't do those bad things. Usually at the likes of Chara Dreemurr, Asgore, and Gabriel Reyes. And like, especially back in the day, Chara fans weren't pretending that they didn't do anything bad, they were just the only ones not DEFINING them SOLELY off of the bad things they did. There've been so many analyses trying to show why Chara might have done what they did both in their backstory and on the No Mercy run, but I've never seen any that tried to claim those actions WEREN'T terrible things to do. Just that they weren't so terrible that they could never be forgiven by anyone.

Asgore is a particularly strange case because like. So much of his character is DEFINED by his guilt and regret. Of COURSE he did bad things. You can barely even be a fan of the man without realizing that, it's such a huge part of him. Like even a Sans stan-equivalent style fan, someone with THAT LITTLE a grasp on his character, still couldn't miss how much he regrets the bad things he did. We can just acknowledge that leading a people who were figuratively or even literally dying without hope, Asgore was desperate to give the monsters he was responsible for some kind of future to hold onto. We can see how much he wants to change course, and that he just doesn't know how to at this point. So when Frisk and the others show him how to find a better path forward, he takes it, and we can forgive him.

And Gabriel is just a simple case of his fans being willing to look at him and try to understand him. How many people who hate Gabriel even understand him the tiniest bit, his thoughts or his position or how he feels? How many people hear his line to Seven-Six, "And you sure know how to play boy scout," and think he's simply calling Seven-Six a goody two-shoes even though that doesn't make any sense whatsoever, how many of them think of Gabriel THAT LITTLE? The people who hate Gabriel see a shadowy man in a mask who kills people and decide that's ALL they want to see. Gabriel's fans just want to try and see what might be beneath the mask. Trying to see a man with thoughts and motivations rather than a generic incarnation of evil is all it takes to get branded with the label "Draco In Leather Pants."

And the most noteworthy thing about all this is that these fandoms are FAR from empty of characters whose fans DO overlook the bad things they do. These kinds of posts would be PERFECTLY suited to fans of certain other characters, rather than the people who see a character the vast majority of the fandom hates and try to understand them. Just look at Undyne, who is literally introduced trying to murder a child. We don't know Frisk's precise age, but we do have a probable window -- we know they aren't a teenager yet, because Snowdrake isn't wearing a striped shirt, and we know they're old enough to walk up a mountain and then through the underground, so the most likely window is 8-12 years old. Undyne tries to kill a child that young. And if you compare how her guilt for that is treated and how she's judged for it in fan works -- occasionally brought up for a few lines, but usually forgotten entirely -- with how CHARA'S guilt for the death of Asriel and their actions on the No Mercy run is treated and judged -- it almost always permeates their entire character and never fully goes away -- the difference is STAGGERING. If you think there's a problem with characters' bad actions being swept under the rug, Undyne would be the FIRST character whose fans you should be looking at, not ignored in favor of people who want to empathize with a miserable, self-loathing, suicidal child or a miserable, self-loathing, suicidal king.

Overwatch is, if anything, even worse. Undyne at least has a highly sympathetic reason for what she does -- trying to free her people from an unjust imprisonment. Seven-Six and Junkrat have no such motivations: Seven-Six is after answers to his own personal questions, and Junkrat just wants money and fun. To get these things, Seven-Six becomes a ruthless, violent pseudo-vigilante who is specifically noted to put civilians in danger frequently, and Junkrat is literally an international criminal with a love for giant explosions and a body count that's god knows how high. Yet somehow fans treat Junkrat like a goofy cinnamon roll and Seven-Six is usually characterized as a combination of "grumpy jerk with a heart of gold" and "gruff and cynical hero." Hell, just look at Mandopony's "Soldiers" -- lines like "We must right these wrongs somehow," "I'm still watching over anyone defenseless," and "If you're innocent you'll never need to fear me," all supposedly coming from a man who is very open about not caring about anything or anyone anymore and who consistently risks the lives of innocents. His TVTropes page is FULL of tropes like "Knight in Sour Armor" that don't fit him at ALL. And then there's the number of people who simply ignore the fact that Junkrat has killed bare-minimum dozens of people -- and god, that's not even getting into the "Junkrat and Roadhog adopt Efi" posts and whatnot, which are awful for SO many reasons -- and the number of alignment charts that inexplicable place him as Chaotic Neutral. THESE are characters whose bad actions are ignored by their fans if EVER there were any. But they're mostly ignored by the "It's okay to like characters who do bad things, but don't pretend they didn't do those bad things" posts -- to an EXTENT you see Junkrat mentioned in those posts, but the other two barely are at all.

What does this mean? Does it mean anything at all? Hell if I know. But it's def a tendency I've seen.

(The other characters I've seen this post aimed at are mostly actual villains or near-villains NO ONE was saying did nothing wrong. And Kylo Ren. And the men from Dragon Age. Also lots of empty untagged posts. And someone named "Important" keeps coming up.)

#Gabriel Reyes #Asgore Dreemurr #Chara Dreemurr #Undyne #Soldier 76 #Junkrat #Overwatch #Undertale #I'm basically thinking out loud but

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queenarrow · 6 years

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To Preface: I don’t normally like what CBR.com has to say about Arrow, but this article makes some good points to think about.

by Hannah Collins

The CW’s flagship Arrowverse series has soldiered on through six seasons since its debut in 2012. As the show that launched an entire DC TV multiverse, it still holds a special place in loyal fans’ hearts. But as ratings for the current season continue to drop (aside from the “Crisis on Earth-X” crossover special), the sentiment among some longtime fans is that Arrow has run out of steam and should get the axe.

Since joining Arrow, The Flash and Supergirl have consistently beaten the green archer in the ratings battle. Although there has been no confirmation yet from The CW that any Arrowverse series will be renewed, the president of the network has indicated all of them are likely to return. This begs the unavoidable question: How, and when, did things go so wrong for Arrow, and what can the series do to prove that it’s still the show this fanbase needs?

Let’s cut straight to the hard question — do we really care about any of the new additions to Team Arrow? Despite Oliver steadily building up a capable support team around him — Diggle, Felicity, Black Canary, Arsenal and Speedy — the first four seasons of Arrow still felt very much focussed on a gruff, lone avenger archetype. This format shifted dramatically in Season 5 when “The” Arrow officially became “Team” Arrow, with the induction of new recruits Curtis Holt (Mister Terrific) Rene Ramirez (Wild Dog) Evelyn Sharp (Artemis) and Rory Regan (Ragman.) By Season 6, the roster shrank back down to just Mister Terrific and Wild Dog, adding Dinah Drake as the new Black Canary. After a poorly received Season 4 finale, it wasn’t surprising that the writers felt a radically new direction was needed to inject some more life back into the show. Unfortunately, the payoff just hasn’t worked. We’ve had nearly two full seasons to warm up to Team Arrow and, compared to the way that “Team Flash” sparks off one another, the newer series regulars still leave us cold.

For a show that grapples with the morality of corporal punishment, Arrow is very precious with its main characters. Laurel Lance’s death was sufficiently shocking, but that feeling has since been significantly lessened by the regular appearance of her Earth 2 doppleganger. The Season 5 finale also raised the stakes by threatening to literally blow most of the cast away. In the end, the only major fatality was Malcolm Merlyn, who was really just a loose end for the show to tie up by that point anyway. The rest of the team escaped virtually unscathed, save for a concussion that kept Thea out of action for most of the following season.

The concept of death being an ever-revolving door is something inherited from the show’s source material so Arrow perhaps shouldn’t shoulder all the blame. But both of these examples read as the show trying to have its death cake and eat it too, which is especially frustrating when its also proven capable in the past of keeping its dead buried. (i.e. Tommy Merlyn) Without the permanence of death hanging over our main characters as they do in other fantasy action series’ like Game of Thrones and The Walking Dead, the stakes are never high enough.

Speaking of Malcolm Merlyn, another of the most persistent problems plaguing Arrow is that it seems to live or die by the strength of its villains and not its heroes. The most poorly received seasons, four and six, correlate directly with lukewarm villains, and vice versa with the stronger ones. With the rights to use fan-favorite Deathstroke now off the table for the foreseeable future, this might be even more of an uphill battle for the show.

By far the hardest thing for Arrow to try and fix, however, is the competition it faces from Netflix’s mature Marvel shows. The Flash, Supergirl and Legends of Tomorrow largely escape this issue by virtue of leaning more heavily into sci-fi and fantasy than The Defenders-verse does. But, Arrow‘s street-level, grittier tone makes it a direct rival, and it often struggles to measure up. Given the show has to appeal to a younger audience this isn’t completely its fault but it often feels like its falling between two stools — not tough enough for adults and not fun enough for kids.

It doesn’t help, either, that Arrow keeps flirting with the kind of social and political commentary — drug addiction, gun control, political corruption, journalistic ethics, etc. — that Netflix’s Marvel shows are able to dive far deeper into. The worthy exception of Quentin Lance’s battle with alcoholism aside, Arrow frequently under-bakes these hard hitting themes that could strengthen it. For instance, Oliver’s relationship with Channel 52 reporter Susan Williams felt like it was leading to something explosive, not to mention timely, given the ongoing conversation about the role that the media plays in politics. Rather than a bang, however, it concluded with a fizzle. These are opportunities Arrow can’t afford to miss the target on anymore.

Arrow, even at its worst, is not a bad TV show, per se. And, like its former-playboy hero, it still has a shot at redemption. In terms of the villain problem, obviously consistency is key. The Rogues Gallery team-up is an exciting prospect, but with Malcolm Merlyn and Deathstroke gone, Arrow could benefit from replacing them with other minor returning villains in the way that Gorilla Grodd and King Shark are used in The Flash, rather than limiting fan favorite bad guys to one episode or one season runs.

The latest incarnation of Team Arrow seems to be on hiatus at this point in Season 6, so perhaps it’s time to consider, as we edge closer to a possible Season 7, whether that hiatus should be a permanent one. It sounds cruel, but a character “cull” might be a necessary way to stop the series feeling overstuffed with personalities who aren’t pulling their weight. This may, of course, seem like a bit of a cop out, so alternatively, if Team Arrow are here to stay then stronger characterization needs to be prioritized.

This is where Arrow could learn a lot from The CW’s longest running genre show, Supernatural. The sole reason Supernatural has survived so long is because the viewers fell in love with the characters, meaning weaker seasons slip by more easily because, to its longtime fans, tuning in has more to do with catching up with “old friends” than it is about the story those friends are part of.

The key to this for Arrow is to make more room for “downtime” episodes, which again, is something Supernatural has been very successful at. We don’t necessarily need as much “filler” as the latter show is sometimes guilty of, but one or two episodes in the vein of the bachelor party episode from the current season of The Flash, where our super-serious heroes and heroines can cut loose could really help us connect more with them. “Side quests,” like Oliver helping Slade Wilson track down his estranged son, are too heavy in tone to really count towards this. At the moment, aside from the bright spot of Oliver and Felicity’s wedding party, it feels as though Team Arrow works 24/7, both as heroes and civilians, and their relationships — aside from romantic entanglements — still come across as oddly formal. Team Flash, on the other hand, have a strong familial bond and the kind of zippy banter you might hear across the dinner table from your own family.

There’s still life left in Arrow but currently it seems like its fading fast for its fed-up fans. Despite all of its problems, it would be a shame to see The CW’s flagship Arrowverse series completely sink but, at the moment, it seems like anything less than a Lazarus pit-strength rebirth won’t be enough to save it.

#arrow #arrow season 6 #season 6 #tv: arrow #arrow reviews

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evillesbianvillainarchive · 7 years

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I was bored so I decided to do a masterpost/kinda fic recs of some of my favourites bnha fics/authors if any on you wants some stuff to read have fun

- Summer stars by pitviperofdoom (personal fave). It’s a tododeku long fic set during the summer of their first high school year and deals also with Shouto’s trauma. Also there’s mom Inko and I love her very much. Inted tsuchako and bakushima (all others pitviper’s fics are to be read, I especially like Where the ocean meet the sky - tododeku fantasy au, Izuku is a merman and Shouto a human - and Count your blessings, not your flaws - tododeku, i generally hate the misunderstanding trope but here it’s really well written and one of my fav fics)

- Yours, mine, ours and 2 A.M. by cityboys (personal faves). They are part of the same serie and set in the same universe/period. The first is a Momojirou/Tododeku: Momo decides to start a summer part time job at a catering company and there she meets Kyoka, while Shouto tries to find the courage to go visit his mother who left the hospital and in the meantime meets Izuku. The second one is a Bakushima: Katsuki goes back to his hometown during summer and ends up working at a restaurant with Eijirou and Ochako. Also Ochako roasts Katsuki a lot and it’s one of the few bakushima fic in wich i liked the way izuku and bakugou’s relationship is portrayed (=> izuku avoids bakugou like the fucking plague) (of cityboys I also read Where dreams come true wich is another Tododeku a little angst - Inko is sick and Izuku is disappointed by life - but really good)

- Sore must be the storm by Pouler. Post canon tododeku, tw for claustrophobia and mention of past abuse. (personal fave)

- How to make Bakugou Katsuki a decent human being by keptein. Bakushima, it’s exactly what it seems, plus dyslexic Eijirou

- 2am knows all secrets by sarahhaley. Bakushima longfic (the best bakushima fics have 2 am in the title somehow) set after Kamino, hurt/comfort, Bakugou keeps having nightmares after his rescue and Eijirou helps him. tw for anxiety attacks and nightmares post trauma.

- We can be each other’s number one fans by Claus_Lucas. Miritama, since they were children to high school years. Mirio and Tamaki are both autistic. tw for bullying.

- I Want Some Satisfaction by Barkour. Inatodo long fic, in wich Inasa has two moms, is totally oblivious and Tsuyu is married with Mina. (personal fave)

- Demolition lovers: beginnings by TMOTC. Long fic Tododeku with quirkless Shouto who works as a doctor for Recovery Girl. Background Ochaiida. TW: domestic abuse, panic attacks, mention of marital rape

- theroyalsavage has some good fics too, my personal favourites: Rush in my veins (tododeku, izuku is a boxer and shouto a dancer), what is right and what is easy (hp au, triwizard tournament, main tododeku, background bakushima and tsuchako), in death, at the end of the world (long fic, supernatural au, main tododeku, background bakushima and tsuchako), the heart inside (kiki delivery service au, tododeku, really background bakushima)

- Every cloud has a silver lining by korsokov. This is, honestly, the funniest fic i’ve ever read (i aready made a colletion of the funniest moment). It’s a main tododeku with minor momojirou and background miritama, a quirkless au in wich Shouto is a producer and Izuku is the new weatherman. You... you just have to read it this fic is an extracorporeal experience. (personal fave)

- But I’ve got an angry heart by newamsterdam. A bakushima longfic, college au that deals with mental health issues, it’s cute. From the same author i read another bakushima, slow it down (go easy on me), in wich Bakugou finds himself in the future - because of the quirk of a villain - in wich he is married to Eijirou. It’s cute even if the second hand embarassment of some scenes physically knocked me down. CW: a thing i don’t love about this author’s fics is how the write the relationship between izuku and bakugou and the behaviour this one has towards izuku (it’s basically impossible to find a bakushima fic in wich the relationship between those two is decently written)

- Slow down, start dancing by mangothief. Super sweet and funny momojirou, in wich they have to write a project overnight and, well, we all know how those things end up.

- cryscale has written lot of short but cute one shots, most with crack f/f pairings: some are living close to the ground (a cute minatsuyu), if sex in our society (it’s pairingless, it deals with misogyny and sexualization in the pro hero world, with some female pro heroes explaining stuff to the students) and i wish we were all rose colored (its a todoiideku that deals with Izuku’s ptsd for being bullied by Bakugou) and I am floating away (tsuchako, tsuyu is a ballerina and ochako does stage makeup)

- Moral compass by aliencereal: it’s a iideku longfic (still a work in progress) that deals a lot with Tenya’s character and also his friendship with Ochako and Shouto (and that deals with sexual harassment and Mineta’s problem bless the writer)

- I won’t just buy you a rose by aknightley: tododeku, Shouto decides to finally go meet his mother in the hospital and in a flower shop he meets quirkless izuku. It even has a sequel, time left to be lazy, in wich Izuku gains One for All and starts going to Yuuei with Shouto. (the same author wrote don’t care if the world knows, another cute tododeku one shot)

- Gruff Knuckles by ryuuzaou: todoiideku, cute and with lot of funny parts wich im really grateful in fics

- celestialfics wrote a LOT of fics (i still have to read them all lol): some are Drink my thoughts (tododeku hurt/comfort), a certain warmth (todoiideku), that is just the way (tododeku, sleepover)

- Leave it to your head (and your heart) by orphan_account: a very short but cute momokendou (i really like how momo is characterized)

- Misguided Missile by bunnyscribe: Shinsou can’t sleep, climb to Midoriya’s room, ask him to fight and has a breakdown. Mood.

#bnha #(summer stars - yours mine ours - sore must be the storm - i want some satisfaction - every cloud has a silver lining are my favourites)#these are not all those i read but also i got bored at some point also i have had this post in my draft for something like a month now #time to post

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ladyandtheghost · 7 years

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Reason #11: Tyrion is “special” to Sansa --- Why is it that Jon “didn’t ask!”

Now, though we compared it (jokingly) to the other instances when men mention Sansa and Jon flips, Jon’s reaction to Tyrion isn’t *exactly* rage — what is more, his disposition towards Tyrion is quite positive *before* Tyrion unwittingly takes it one step too far in his talk about Sansa.

When they first meet at the beach, Jon actually breaks out in a smile and shakes Tyrion’s hand, genuinely happy to see him. We can be sure that Jon knows all about Tyrion at that moment, at least everything that Sansa had shared about him and we know that she characterized Tyrion as “not like the others” and praised how kind he was. Even if she never said it out loud, she also implied to Jon that his being “kind” means he *never* touched her.

That alone makes Tyrion a good guy in Jon’s eyes.

The scene with Theon next episode confirmed that Sansa’s safety and well-being takes such center stage in Jon’s ‘good books’ that he immediately forgave Theon’s betrayal of his brother, his entire family and the North. Due to that, we can assume that Jon *would* feel gratitude towards Tyrion for treating his sister well when he would have had every opportunity (and the legal right) to do the opposite.

So...when Tyrion does broach the “subject” - hoping to resolve whatever doubt Jon might have about his honourable treatment of Sansa - he is rebuffed with something that can only be described as ‘gruff rudeness’ by Jon.

“I didn’t ask.”

And this only broke out of Jon the moment Tyrion showed a little *too* much interest in Sansa.

He actually starts out ok asking politely: “And Sansa? I hear she’s alive and well.” which is a natural, polite inquiry and Jon replies accordingly: “She is.” Neutral, polite. They’re cool with each other.

If only Tyrion had left it at that and said something like “Good. I’m glad.” and then changed the subject to maybe fill Jon in about dragon lady and what’s going on in Dragonstone.

The fact that he didn’t is actually what makes this entire scene highly suspicious and seemingly ‘relevant’ because a simple “Sansa ok?” - “Yup, thanks.” would have absolutely sufficed to show character relations, continuity, whatever.

What we get instead is yet another “conflict”, however minor, about and over Sansa between Jon and another male character.

So Tyrion *wants* to talk about Sansa and approaches the subject with a joke (as is his wont): “Does she miss me terribly?”

Jon: …..

*cricket sounds*

After Jon’s initial positive reaction to seeing Tyrion again, his smile AND even the fact that Jon DID appreciate Tyrion’s joke before at the beach:

“The Bastard of Winterfell” to which Jon full on joked back: “The Dwarf of Casterly Rock!” (*smile*) and then some banter about him “pissing off the edge” of the wall...

So of course Tyrion was led to believe that making this clearly *ironic* crack about Sansa “missing him” would be taken lightly by Jon. Like he actually thought Jon would chuckle and say something funny/sarcastic back as he DID before at the beach.

Well, Jon does not. Jon doesn’t say anything. And *that* says a lot by itself.

Tyrion immediately senses that he’s crossed some invisible line here. Confused, he seems to panic a little and he rambles a little.

Jon’s terse reaction, his rebuffing first of Tyrion’s joke, then of his reassurances that he was good to his sister, makes him nervous, because he didn’t see it coming at all. He looks back at Jon and fumbles to explain that the marriage was a sham and was never consummated -- going from 0 to 100 on the scale of “lol how’s your sister doing” to “I never banged your girl, I swear.”

The question is: why does Jon not just accept Tyrion’s words, which are clearly meant as some sort of ‘olive branch’ between the two men. He’s not telling him anything shocking or outrageous. It’s not offensive or expressed in a crude way. And when he says it was a sham marriage, he isn’t joking about it. He means it. So why is Jon lowkey getting his hackles up? He says that he “didn’t ask” to be told this, by which he means he doesn’t want to hear it. Only why?

Jealousy? Sansa spoke very favourably about Tyrion, almost warmly, remembering him as a good and ‘special’ person. And Tyrion isn’t satisfied with just the news that Sansa is well, but wants to know if she “misses” him. If Jon was NOT Sansa’s brother, there would be no doubt that Jon’s reaction is based on pure jealousy of their ‘bond’ however short lived it was. Since he is (still) her brother, though, this may only factor in subconsciously.

Actual disinterest? Jon feels no need to know whether this Lannister treated his sister well. He doesn’t care. He just wants to look out to the sea and count the steps until they are up at the castle. Yeah, fat chance. I think part of Jon had a fierce need to know, to be reassured of just what Tyrion told him (and Sansa had only implied) - and there was an anxiety about it within him, but one that he felt he had no right to acknowledge - because he respects Sansa’s privacy.

Protectiveness? Makes little sense since Tyrion’s words about their “sham” marriage do not hurt Sansa in any way. If anything, he is full of praise and reveals nothing but care and protectiveness of Sansa himself. Any maybe this is what Jon doesn’t want to hear: this man being just as “good” and “protective” of Sansa as he is.

He isn’t the *only* one to love Sansa and wish to protect her. In fact, what Tyrion’s words do in that moment is - they confirm Sansa’s words about Tyrion back at Winterfell. He was exceptional at King’s Landing. The only man to be kind to her.

Tyrion was “special” to Sansa.

Which kind of makes Jon - at least in his own head - a little bit “less special” to her. He’s her brother - his care, love and protectiveness are taken for granted.

This small man’s care, love and protectiveness came without family ties.

And Jon does NOT want to hear about that. No, Jon “didn’t ask.”

Now, Tyrion is a very protective man: he protected Sansa from Joffrey for one and in his storyline with Shae we saw the length to which he would go in order to protect the woman he loved. A lot of his romance with Shae was actually all about hiding and protecting her, and keeping her a “secret.”

So Tyrion knows better than anyone else how protective (and possessive) a man can get about his beloved. He only didn’t expect to see some shade of that coming from Jon. Even if people want to argue that Jon is “only” protective of Sansa as a brother would be - and you’re NOT WRONG - because at this point Sansa IS his sister -- it is the ‘weirded out’ and tell-tale reactions of everyone else to Jon’s volatile behaviour whenever Sansa is being discussed that makes it clear that there is something ��off” about it.

Only that at this time everyone who notices it, has bigger problems than to wonder why the King in the North is so fierce about his ‘Lady Sister.’

Including himself, I bet.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #jon snow #sansa stark #tyrion lannister #sansas men

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comradeocean · 7 years

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Rogue One fic recs

Mostly Cassian/Jyn (rebelcaptain) with a few about K-2SO and ok also some meta links and this cool fanvid and a mixtape I made, or, No It’s Perfectly Alright My Life Has Been Overrun By Rogue One Not Like I Needed It For Anything Else (I do. It’s not alright. It’s really. really. not. alright.)

Organized by: K-2SO \\ Canon Compliant \\ AU - Scarif and Immediate Aftermath \\ AU - timeskip \\ AU - not even a little bit EU \\ AU - other (no Rogue One timeline, multiverse, etc) \\ Misc

- I’ve mostly avoided to non-canon AUs and WIPs but I’m sure that’ll change as I sink deeper into this mess - for the not-everyone-lives AUs, the surviving characters are denoted in brackets. (e.g. [BR, CA, JE]) if there are no brackets that either means the fic has everyone on the initial Rogue One team (BR, CA, JE, CI, BM, K) survive Scarif or that no casualties are mentioned - About 50 links in and I’m less than 3/4 through the tabs I have saved ooooops. I’ll continue to update as the spiraling continues.

===== K-2SO ===== title: Unseen by: TheCookieMonster77 rating: teen word count: 400 summary: Kaytoo had known this droid. notes: I found that droid extraction scene on Scarif very striking, like there was something horrifying and tragic going on. I'm glad someone wrote a little fic about it.

title: climb, climb by: peradi rating: not rated word count: 1039 summary: K-2SO: the droid with existential anxiety and a smart mouth. notes: "Additional Tags: Sad Robots" saaaaaad I am le sad

title: firefly by: peradi rating: not rated word count: 4483 summary: Humanity is infectious, Finn makes friends with droids, and K2 cannot get any rest: the story of how Rogue One flies again. notes: "additional tags: droids having feelings, musings about what droids are, the force has a plan and the force is a dick, chirrut imwe is always right, k2 can't catch a break, legacy, Crack Treated Seriously, the fic where k2 is reincarnated as the falcon" I laughed. I almost cried, several times. ALL the droids are so incredibly well written - K-2SO, BB-8, R2, the brief mentions of C3PO. the humans are ok too, I guess. [I kid, but Finn and Poe are legit amazing in this as well]

title: A Cog In Something Turning by: Redrikki rating: gen word count: 1742 summary: Cassian hadn't meant to give K-2SO free will. Good thing for both of them he's a terrible slicer. notes: my favourite Cassian-and-K-2SO fic

title: The Ghosts in the Machines by: squireofgeekdom rating: gen word count: 1985 summary: How K2SO's many ghosts aided the Rebellion and stymied the Imperials, and how one of those ghosts carried the memories of Rogue One past the end of the Empire. notes: love love love the concept and the execution

title: RUN SIMULATION: SCENARIO ABB-10AU by: sarahlucielle rating: teen word count: 1125 summary: K-2SO mentally simulates what might have been.

title: The Genre Does Not Support This by: nymja rating: teen word count: 990 summary: “I have decided to be proactive,” the droid responded primly. “Proactive? For what?” Jyn leaned forward in her chair. “Sexual tension will increase mission failure by approximately 12.95%.” K-2SO suspects something is going on between Cassian and Jyn. notes: they are so oblivious and bad at feelings[1]! K2 is so extremely put upon!!!! EVERTHING IS WONDERFUL AND NOTHING HURTS [1] Jyn had seen her share of strange things. An Imperial droid in a mood swing was now one of them. “…Right. Well.” She looked back down at her blaster, because that was at least a familiar terrain on which to solve a problem. “Let me know if I can help.” PERF JYN CHARACTERIZATION

title: not titled by: radiojamming rating: not rated word count: short summary: Jyn trying to get information out of K-2SO about what kind of things that Cassian likes. notes: Jyn! flailing! K-2SO! unhelpful in the extreme! a heartwarming ending!

===== Canon Compliant ===== title: on the white shores of scarif by: jynorgana rating: gen word count: 2648 summary: In case you were wondering, this is what Jyn Erso thinks about love. notes: love and Jyn and Saw Gerrera and Cassian. I wanted so much more of that fraught difficult relationship Jyn has with Saw Gerrera, with growing up with him. This is exactly what I wanted.

title: a hundred flags flying in a field by: ginnyweasleys rating: teen word count: 2850 summary: So much of him is all jagged edges and war-hardened heart. She hadn’t thought there was much room for softness.(five times jyn and cassian touch.) notes: I love how steady and careful Cassian is, esp in contrast to Jyn

title: Touching Freedom by: endeni rating: mature word count: 1795 summary: The things Cassian has done for the Cause. notes: “They don't own me,” she repeats, slowly this time. “What they do with my body, it doesn't matter. They think they can take what they want, do what they want, to us, to the whole galaxy. But they’re wrong, Cassian, okay? They’re wrong.” and later Like he never expected Cassian to last as long as he did in the first place, like he’d been waiting for those words to come out of his mouth for years now and he’s almost surprised he’s finally hearing them. people being conscious of having a body and trying to extract something from that consciousness is something I am drawn to

title: ghost stories by: ZeGabz rating: gen word count: 2085 summary: Rey's daydreams speak to her sometimes.The voices echo Rebellions. notes: Jyn is a force ghost only seen by Rey

title: hope lives on by: peradi rating: not rated word count: 7298 summary: Bodhi dies. This is what happens afterwards. Or: Bodhi becomes the patron saint of the Resistance. notes: very much a story of how Bodhi is a patron saint in the storyworld of The Force Awakens (with the mythology of the prequels and Rogue One intact). funny. slightly didactic, but in a way I found pleasing.

title: star-crossed by: poseidon rating: not rated word count: 2256 summary: They're not going to survive. They were never going to survive. notes: I like the K-2SO section

title: not titled by: reystars rating: not rated word count: short summary: headcanon segued into fic about that blaster Jyn stole from Cassian

title: not titled by: radiojamming rating: not rated word count: short summary: Jyn, inner thoughts: "He's staring at me again, why is he staring at me again - can't he stop judging me for a minute, GEEZ." Cassian, inner thoughts: "She's got space gravy on her bottom lip and I don't know if I want to tell her or if I want to lick it off." notes: a farce! the POV switch turns this into a veritable farce!

title: Sinner's Worth by: guineapiggie rating: teen word count: 1147 summary: For a while, they just sit there, pointedly staring at the wall opposite, but then her curiosity gets the better of her. “Why risk your life to get me out of there? I’d played my part. You lot should see the bigger picture, right?” At first, she thinks he’s just decided to ignore her, then he sighs softly and says: “The truth?” She doesn’t think his question warrants an answer. This man turns out to be a very unpredictable bundle of contradictions, and he’s far too honest for a spy. notes: post-Jedha

title: There For You by: guineapiggie rating: gen word count: 1954 summary: “That’s good,” she mutters, motioning towards her bowl with her spoon. His eyes dart up and then there’s a small smile twitching around his lips. It isn’t much, but it makes her wonder what he looks like with an actual smile on his face, and she imagines it looks quite nice. She hates herself a little for that thought." They reach Yavin IV and Jyn has every intention to lock herself in the room they've given her and not come out ever again. However, someone strongly disagrees with that plan. notes: post-Eadu OH MY GOD the yearning the unfulfilled! yearning!

title: rise/set by: nymja rating: teen word count: 452 summary: Her fingers slide over the mug. They’re both wearing gloves, but for a moment there’s something to the heat of the metal that she wonders about. notes: Jyn and Cassian and the sun during Rogue One. wistful in the best way.

title: Finding Myself (And Maybe You) series [WIP] by: copper_nails rating: mature, explicit word count: 16357 summary: "The barracks on Yavin Four aren’t meant to double as guest quarters." Or: Jyn's first night with the Alliance is a...cozy one. then: Cassian takes on a bunk guest and finds the entire experience...confusing. and: “I am not programmed to believe in miracles,” K-2SO informs her as they take the final steps towards the door, “but the fact that you did not kill the captain in his sleep registers as close to an impossibility as is processable. I do not anticipate such an outlier occurring again.” The effort it takes Jyn not to roll her eyes is almost unbearable. “We’ll see, K-2,” she says, stepping out into the light of day. “We’ll see.” notes: drunk bed-sharing, mutual distrust, sexual frustration. all that good stuff.

title: i imagine life so much it feels like a memory by: alsoalsowik rating: mature word count: 792 summary: In their final moments, Cassian sees an entire lifetime he won’t get to have in Jyn’s eyes. notes: I have such a weakness for these momentary could-have-been lives imagined by one or both of them on the beach.

title: What Might Have Been by: AgentVeronica rating: teen word count: 2101 summary: With each soul, a world dies. notes: there is so much I love about this fic - the way the tenses and POV make it seem like instances of documentation, the way the imagined future spreads out

title: you were my new home by: katsumi rating: teen word count: 4690 summary: She surprises herself with the force of the want in her. She’s only known him a few weeks—and he’s gruff, and secretive, and single-minded to a dangerous degree—but he’s the first person in a long time she’s had any real ties to. And yes, his loyalty is not to her so much as it is to the cause she’s now a part of. But for now, he’s just a little bit hers in a way that no one else has been for a very, very long time. Before they can meet with Saw Gerrera, they have to find Saw Gerrera, and that takes time. On the search, Jyn and Cassian grow closer. notes: lengthy missing moments fic of all our dreams

===== AU - Scarif & immediate aftermath ===== title: Beinahe [BR, CA, JE] by: guineapiggie rating: teen word count: 7071 summary: People around them assume they must have had an affair before, and she can't blame them. She's holding his hand, sleeping in his bed, and if she wasn't lauded a hero of the Rebellion, they would never let her do that. But they are, so instead they spin stories of the two of them. She couldn't care less. What she cares about, once he gets better, is what becomes of two people who were almost strangers and who held each other as death came for them, and then woke up to find they weren't dead. She doesn't know what that means, except that she wants to kiss him more than ever, because he's the only source of solace she has had in a long time, and she needs one more than ever. (If she had to chose a word for Cassian Andor, it's almost.) - Surviving Scarif and leaving Scarif are two very different things. - notes: amazing how survivor's guilt is written here. love the long, slow burn.

title: Inevitable [WIP] [BR, CA, JE] by: cellorocket rating: teen word count: 10869 summary: He had the kind of face you saw everywhere, and nowhere at the same time – so unremarkably average that it was almost suspicious. But he knew how to wear it, knew how to be a thousand different things; whatever the mission required. Though he often disappeared into whatever role he was assigned, sometimes she saw glimmers of an emotion she couldn’t read ripple over those strangely common features, and knew it had no place in a liar’s arsenal of masks. Sad eyes, she thought, shivering. He can’t hide those. || the rogue one trio + episode iv and onward notes: I really like Bodhi and Jyn’s POVs and the sense of how strange it is to be so extremely close to people they barely know, and the simultaneous distance that incongruity creates

title: Long Way Home series [WIP] by: noelia_g rating: gen, explicit word count: 15357 summary: In which they all live and Jyn Erso is on a quest to fix a droid. Rogue One in the aftermath. Cassian Andor before Rogue One, during, and after. notes: god GOD

title: Arm's Length [CA, JE] by: FollowMyFeet rating: mature word count: 6404 summary: "You want me to hate you?" he hisses. "Okay, I'll hate you." notes: the first chapter killed me

title: stubborn hope by: conjurewithrisk rating: teen word count: 475 summary: This is a rebellion. They rebel by staying alive. notes: so I have lots of thought and feelings about martyrdom and survival and how maybe staying alive is the most revolutionary thing of all but also possibly the least idk. this brought up some stuff for me

title: they have stolen the heart from inside you (but this does not define you) [CA, JE] by: gingergenower rating: teen word count: 1578 summary: Jyn and Cassian escaped Scarif, and they end up in a rebel base in the middle of nowhere while they collect themselves. They are all stardust. notes: I like the fics where they are stricken with survivor’s guilt. I also like this one where Jyn’s detached and quietly bewildered. just observing things as they happen, having thoughts filter in and out

title: Stay in Motion [WIP] by: ignitesthestars, nymja, starforged rating: teen word count: 5184 summary: Short stories set in a universe where the Rogue One crewmembers survive

===== AU - timeskip (after Scarif) ===== title: the sharp edge of survival by: with_the_monsters rating: teen word count: 3950 summary: They're heroes, now, but the not the type of heroes the Republic wants. Not bright and clean and effortlessly Light. Not able to sit still or give up the fight. The fight built each of them, after all. Made them what they are. notes: I really like this iteration of everyone-lives because there are gaps between surviving and living and what those are and how they might be filled is written in a very real and touching way.

title: Clean Shaven by: 19RosesofLifeandDeath98 rating: gen word count: 1263 summary: Cassian liked routines, and Jyn liked Cassian. It wasn’t a hard protocol to follow. notes: post mission hand injury oh no how will Cassian maintain his shaving schedule. so sweet and awkward I love it!

title: in the spaces series [WIP] by: nymja rating: teen, explicit word count: 9701 summary: Jyn, Cassian, and their intersecting moments during the Galactic Civil War. & Jyn, Cassian, and the war not ending after Endor. notes: I made many whale noises whilst reading this fic. another one for the post-Scarif trauma + slow, long burn file.

title: Cryptography [WIP] by: someinstant rating: teen word count: 6985 summary: Compromised, Cassian read, his fingers numbing against the screen. Jyn says to orphan. The words blurred, and he dropped the pad. “To orphan?” Senator Organa asked the general. She didn't pretend not to have read over Cassian's shoulder. “Cut ties,” said Draven. He cleared his throat. "It's what you do when an agent goes rogue--" Cassian shook his head. “No,” he said, mechanically. "It means 'to abandon.'” notes: “And the ending is amazing. The third act is perfect, and I wouldn't change it for the world. Which is why I'm just gonna shift the world over *just a little*, and keep going.” so exciting and plotty!!!!!

title: i don't care if heaven won't take me back by: gingergenower rating: explicit word count: 6628 summary: Cassian's compromised and kidnapped on a routine mission, taken by a crime mob working with the Empire. The Alliance orders Jyn to cut and run because too many lives would be lost failing to save him. As is her nature, she goes rogue. notes: riveting action scenes. I’m a sucker for the ride-and-die Jyn characterization

title: something distracting by: PastyPirate rating: explicit word count: 4679 summary: Cassian never really thought about statutes of limitations on disobedience. Mainly because he’d never disobeyed an order before. But after nine months, and a mission that can only really be called successful (body count and everything), he felt like getting a slap on the wrist for disobeying an order was a bit much. In which; Cassian has no idea how to properly be grounded, he ends up thinking too much about things he'd rather not focus on. notes: in love with Cassian’s running internal monologue and his constant berating of himself

===== AU - not even a little bit EU ===== title: not titled drabble by: plinys rating: gen word count: short summary: jyn x cassian, partners in crime au

title: we will not grow old by: Wildehack rating: mature word count: 3001 summary: In the dream, Jyn’s father is there, just like he was when she was new. He cups her face in his hands, and a rush of yearning fills Jyn’s chest, but she’s not sure what for. He brushes her hair out of her eyes, sits down beside her in this strange, cold room. “Analysis,” he says. notes: Westworld AU

title: not titled by: raspberrylimonade rating: not rated word count: ~ 1000 summary: Where instead of being killed in the blast, Jyn and Cassian are transported to LA in the early 2000s where Cassian becomes a retailer for home appliances (based of this interview https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fRZ1ihipQso) and Jyn becomes a fitness instructor. notes: charming!

===== AU - other (no Rogue One timeline, multiverse, etc) ===== title: The Jedha Moon Jockey [WIP] by: ballantine rating: mature word count: 3963 summary: “Jedha’s not a priority for the Alliance at the moment,” he says, not looking away from the open panel. “Oh, of course,” the girl says. “It’s not like the occupation of this moon has anything to do with its extensive kyberite ore, which, if you didn’t know (but you should), the Empire has started to turn to for energy enrichment. And it’s certainly not like the Alliance’s apparent abandonment of one of the most revered symbols of the Jedi Order will have any impact at all on rebel morale in the Mid Rim — ” Cassian momentarily gives up on opening the cell door in favor of putting his head in hands and groaning. notes: “Cassian picks through the wiring and says, “For someone who obviously hates the Empire with so much passion, you don’t seem too worried about being caught in one of their holding cells.” She shrugs one shoulder. “Saw Gerrera will come for me. He always does.”” EVERYTHING I'VE EVER WANTED. "Saw Gerrera did not abandon Jyn" is a tag but so is "Loss of Faith." I am worried.

title: not titled / Sic Itur Ad Astra by: radiojamming / ClockworkCourier rating: not rated word count: ~ 2600 summary: Jyn Erso, unsurprisingly, turned everything he believed about himself and the galaxy right on its head; what was right, what was wrong, and what to do about it. It was all different because of her, and he couldn’t help but feel something like a sinking sensation in his chest when he realized that. He didn’t accept it, though. Not without a mark. Not without a reason. notes: jyn/cassian soulmate (w matching birthmarks) AU. does the fatalism of the trope very evocatively

title: Propaganda by: pantropia rating: not rated word count: 812 summary: Neither the Rebellion nor the Empire are above using popular media as propaganda. notes: movie within a movie meta fix-it

title: And The Next [WIP] by: ienablu rating: teen word count: 20448 summary: Jyn looks to the disappearing horizon and thinks, The Force is with me, I am one with the Force. The Force is with me, I am one with the Force. The Force is strong with me, I am – Jyn wakes up in her Wobani prison cell, panting and a scream dying in her throat. notes: I love Groundhog Day AUs. this is one of the best I've ever read. the most recent chapter (4) is painful in the perfect way.

title: The RebelCaptain Ultimate Kiss Mod [WIP] by: Coryphefish rating: teen word count: 504 summary: There should have been a kiss on the beach? In the elevator? Why stop there? This is the fix-it fic we really need! ALL the moments in Rogue One where it almost happened? Now it did!

title: not titled drabble by: kylorenvevo rating: not rated word count: ~1000 summary: jyn/cassian alias!au with jyn spying on the empire and cassian as her rebel handler

===== Misc ===== - a really wonderful fanvid - radiojamming: important features of k-2so day - rinsantago: "In retrospect, there was no freaking way that Jyn and Cassian could have been Rey’s parents." - iamthezip: "What does little 6-year-old Cassian “rebellions are built on hope” Andor do for the fucking rebellion?!" - thegrayship: ““You DUMPED me!” vs “They’ll be back for me.”” [Jyn and Rey comparisons] - lionmettled: “Info on Chirrut and Baze from the Visual Dictionary” - notbecauseofvictories: “I have managed to find a single feeling about galen erso, and it mostly concerns him being an amoral figure, wearing very badly-fitting moral skin” - Star Wars: Rogue One places Asian heroes at the core of its revolution - rukbats: “Anyway, what I’m trying to say here is that by modern standards we can safely assume that Cassian Andor was most probably a scorpio, sagittarius or a capricorn thank you for coming to my TED talk” - betterbemeta: “3P0 is simultaneously totally useless yet hyper functional because he was not made according to any specs except “the best most toughest things possible to help my mom for a long long time on a hot desert planet” - I made a Cassian Andor mixtape!

I am here and always ready to cry with you about revolutions and Saw Gerrera and Cassian and Jyn. ☭<3☭

#fic rec #rebelcaptain #Jyn Erso #Cassian Andor #K2SO #rogue one spoilers #Hope Captain and the Deaths of Tomorrow

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grouchycubiclejockey · 7 years

Text

David Rosen Character Flaws Check Count: 28

Bold what applies to your character.

Absent-minded - Preoccupied to the extent of being unaware of one’s immediate surroundings. Abstracted, daydreaming, inattentive, oblivious, forgetful.

Abusive - Characterized by improper infliction of physical or psychological maltreatment towards another.

Addict - One who is addicted to a compulsive activity. Examples: gambling, drugs, sex.

Aimless - Devoid of direction or purpose.

Alcoholic - A person who drinks alcoholic substances habitually and to excess.

Anxious - Full of mental distress or uneasiness because of fear of danger or misfortune; greatly worried; solicitous.

Arrogant - Having or displaying a sense of overbearing self-worth or self-importance. Inclined to social exclusiveness and who rebuff the advances of people considered inferior. Snobbish.

Audacious - Recklessly bold in defiance of convention, propriety, law, or the like; insolent; braze, disobedient.

Bad Habit - A revolting personal habit. Examples: picks nose, spits tobacco, drools, bad body odour.

Bigmouth - A loud-mouthed or gossipy person.

Bigot - One who is strongly partial to one’s own group, religion, race, or politics and is intolerant of those who differ.

Blunt - Characterized by directness in manner or speech; without subtlety or evasion. Frank, callous, insensitive, brusque.

Bold - In a bad sense, too forward; taking undue liberties; over assuming or confident; lacking proper modesty or restraint; rude; impudent. Abrupt, brazen, cheeky, brassy, audacious.

Callous - They are hardened to emotions, rarely showing any form of it in expression. Unfeeling. Cold.

Childish - Marked by or indicating a lack of maturity; puerile.

Complex - An exaggerated or obsessive concern or fear. (List specific complex: inferiority complex)

Cruel - Mean to anyone or anything, without care or regard to consequences and feelings.

Cursed - A person who has befallen a prayer for evil or misfortune, placed under a spell, or borne into an evil circumstance, and suffers for it. Damned.

Dependent - Unable to exist, sustain oneself, or act appropriately or normally without the assistance or direction of another.

Deranged - Mentally decayed. Insane. Crazy. Mad. Psychotic.

Dishonest – Given to or using fraud, cheating; deceitful, deceptive, crooked, underhanded.

Disloyal - Lacking loyalty. Unfaithful, perfidious, traitorous, treasonable

Disorder - An ailment that affects the function of mind or body. (List the disorders name if they have one.) See the Mental Disorder List.

Disturbed - Showing some or a few signs or symptoms of mental or emotional illness. Confused, disordered, neurotic, troubled.