#truly loved having to explain to friends that they are NOT all gay
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the tweets on this saga continue to slap
#truly loved having to explain to friends that they are NOT all gay#only the hot one#(eugene… call me)#try guys#ned fulmer#quinta brunson#youtuber#abbott elementary#tom sturridge#the sandman#queer#lgbt#john mulaney#adam levine#twitter#2022#.konbinii#.misc
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A Spot in My Life
T | 953 words
Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is keeping a spare sweater or blanket in the car because they always get cold
Steve Harrington is a bitch.
It's something that Eddie knew, all through high school, but he had thought that Steve had somehow became a new person- thanks to the Upside Down and constantly almost seeing the world end.
Steve isn't a bad guy, he can admit. He's still trying to keep an eye on everyone, make sure they're ok, even checking in with Eddie in his own way.
But he's very sly about it, hiding it being playful jabs, eye rolls and cocked hips.
It rubs him the wrong way. And it's only made worse by how much Eddie still likes him. It's as if the bitchiness only draws him in more, even as it makes his chest burn with irritation.
He tries to avoid Steve for as long as he can. He knows that finally befriending him like they both want will only end badly, but he knows he can't resist the temptation.
He enjoys the time before as much as he can, reveling in how often Steve will try to corner him so they can hang out, how much he whines and pleads and pushes. He enjoys the illusion that Steve could feel anything for him like he does for Steve.
And, when they finally do hang out, his fears are confirmed.
Steve is amazing. He's funnier than he comes across as at first too. He pays attention to what Eddie says and tries to get him anything he wants.
He's the type of friend that anyone would fight for, Eddie is sure. It explains how he ended up so popular in high school too.
If Eddie had known what Steve is truly like, he'd have been lining up for a scrap of his attention like everyone else.
"They're assholes," Steve explains, when Eddie finally asks about his old lackeys. "Tommy always took shit a step too far. I didn't need them. Probably shouldn't have befriended them in the first place."
"They were your friends," Eddie reminds him.
Steve sighs, leaning back. "Yeah, I guess. Just wish I'd realised sooner, how they were getting."
He never complains about the kids, not genuinely. In the quiet moments, when Steve is honest with an almost painful degree of vulnerability, he talks about how amazing the kids are. He talks about how honored he is to be friends with Dustin.
It only makes Eddies feelings inch ever closer to 'the L word'.
"You should talk to him," Robin suggests. "He really is amazing."
"I know, but... guys that are ok with lesbians still get weird about gay men, you know?"
"Yeah, but Steve isn't like that. Did he ever tell you the full story of how I came out to him?"
"It was after the Russian torture drugs, right?"
"We were in the bathroom, near the cinema. I thought we might have puked it all up, so we decided to test it, ask each other questions. So, I asked him if he was ever in love..."
"Oh... oh no."
"Oh yes. He liked me, told me so, and that's when I came out to him."
"Holy shit, Robin."
"But that's my point. He was a little surprised, sure, but he started making jokes, like, immediately. Didn't phase him at all. He got with it immediately. We're just friends, and that's not a problem for him."
Eddie groans, throwing his head back so it thumps into the wall behind him. "But that just makes him more hot!"
The story plagues his mind, to the point that it's the only thing he can think about when he picks Steve up for their next hang out.
In the dead of winter, Steve feels the cold worse than anyone else that Eddie knows. He runs hot, and the sudden temperature drops brings out the worse in him.
He's shivering when he climbs into Eddie's car.
"Fuck, why isn't your heating on?" He whines.
"It's broke," Eddie reminds him. "It's fine, don't worry."
"Don't worry? I'm gonna get hypothermia, Eddie! I don't want to turn into an ice sc- what is that?"
He takes the blanket that Eddie had reached back to grab, staring at it.
"It's a blanket."
"No shit, I mean... it's yellow."
"Yeah? You like yellow."
"You got this for me?"
"You see anyone else shivering in my van?"
"No, it..." Steve pauses, glancing at Eddie before slowly wrapping the blanket around himself. "Sorry, uh... thank you. This is, um, nice."
"it's nothing."
"It's not. Just- take the thanks, Ed."
"Alright, alright."
They're silent for the rest of the drive. It's so unusual for them that it has Eddie nervous, glancing at Steve every other moment.
When they finally pull to a stop, Eddie turns to Steve, who stays where he is. He stares out the front window for a moment, before turning to face Eddie.
"Are you alright?" Eddie asks.
"Yeah, I am. Enjoying the warmth."
"That all?"
"... yeah."
Eddie rolls his eyes. "You're a terrible liar."
"Wh- hey, I'm a good liar!" He tries to glare, but quickly backs down with a huff. "Alright, fine, but it's really sappy! Don't say I didn't warn you!"
"Oh, no, the horror."
"Shut up. I was just thinking about how, like... there's so many little things in your life that are for me. My tapes in your room, spare clothes in your closet, this blanket... I really appreciate it, man. You've made space for me in your life. It means a lot to me."
"Oh, right. That's... yeah. Of course, Steve. You're always welcome. I love- uh... spending time with you."
"Good. I love spending time with you too."
"Good."
"Great."
Steve's smile is wide and goofy. He's sure that his own is just as cheesy.
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Hello !
Could you please write some headcanons with Alastor and m!reader as his S/O , where reader is a fallen seraphim / ex - seraphim?
Thank you in advance !
Hmmm! Okay! I actually wanted Alastor discovering his partner is a Fallen Angel for a while now. I can imagine what would happen… but uh, anyway. Let’s try this out, shall we? Alastor is now my primary Hazbin Hotel man, which I don’t mind! I love this man!
Alastor- Lies and Deception
Why… why would you lie?! Why did you lie?! Why did… Alastor can barely process what he just learnt. His beloved partner, his cute sweetie. A affectionate polite man, you. You’re not a demon at all, you’re an angel and you were a high-level angel as well. Charlie isn’t the only one who finds out her partner is a angel, Alastor did too
“A-Al! I can explain… I just—” “Save it, Leitore. I don’t want to hear from you” and with that, Alastor goes back down to Hell. Not hearing you out, despite when you try to explain yourself. It hurts your soul seeing your boyfriend, now, so closed-off, cold and disinterested
Alastor refuses to talk to you and when he does, he is quite passive-aggressive but yet, he can’t bring himself to be insulting. He is more business than emotions and comes off as very apathetic. It’s just because he doesn’t know how to act around you anymore with this grand discovery drilled into his head
He avoids you like the plague after the incident in Heaven and Adam revealing both you and Vaggie’s angelic origins to the Group
Alastor had ended up just like Charlie. Both him and Charlie are struggling with learning that their partner lied to them and hid their true selves for so long. Unlike Charlie, who vents to Alastor about Vaggie all the way to the Cannibal Colony, Alastor tries to not focus on you… he doesn’t want a reminder
However, he is eventually talked into trying to make it up with you by his dear friend, Rosie. She reminds him that you’re his lover and that he can’t just shut you out over you not trusting Alastor to not throw you out if you told him the truth… oh, Alastor could kiss Rosie right now! But, he can’t. He needs to make up with you after the weeks he’s spent ignoring you
Like Charlie, Alastor brings over a little gift. Surprised to find out that you’ve gotten back your angel wings after so long of merely looking like an average sinner. Three feathery sets, they are gorgeous and they make your eyes pop. Alastor may not like that his lover is an Angel and he’s a true Demon but that shouldn’t keep you two apart… and after Rosie’s talk, it won’t
After quite the long private talk with you and much forgiveness and acceptance and promising, Alastor is once again, by your side and holding your hand. He was harsh in the past about what he considered a betrayal but he has heard your side of it and forgiven you for lying to him. Not everybody is perfect
Alastor may or may not play with your reborn and re-gained angel wings when he is bored or waiting. You’re always right next to him so he’ll just run sharp long clawed fingers through the gentle feathers and be enamoured by how incredible it feels. Alastor also may just take an nap on your back with how comfortable those wings of yours are
Alastor is your sweet devil, a truly corrupted evil monster but he has an opposite in the man you are, a more pacifistic and harmless soul. Just like Charlie and Vaggie but swapped, you and Alastor are the higher-up Angel-Demon gay couple. Alastor is unredeemable and won’t be going to Heaven whilst you, a being of Heaven, is stuck down here in Hell
Alastor much prefers you stay in your original look but now, that also includes the Seraphim wings. Just keep them out of the way whilst you walk and Alastor is completely content with it. He just has to get use to having an angel in the Hotel… he has to get use to having TWO angels in the Hotel
Trust me, Alastor won’t ask about life as a Seraphim in Heaven. He doesn’t even care about it, he doesn’t care what dropped you into Hell. He only cares that you’re in Hell and that you’ll stay in Hell, stay with him. That’s all he’ll ever ask, but if you want to talk about your past in Heaven, he is all ears
Alastor, also, may not be perfect but he is doing his best to accept the reality that you had to lie to him and now that, you’re both cleared it up with one another. Now, you can be 100% honest with each other
Alastor is encouraging to you, encouraging you to let out your angelic origins and not be frightened by all the Sinners. Everybody in the Hotel knows you and Vaggie are from Heaven, just embrace it. He is embracing it one step at a time
“Oh… darling. I know I was quite harsh to you. I was just upset, I thought the man I loved was against me and I was trying to kill me from the inside. I understand you didn’t want to tell me and that’s okay… we’ll get through this little bump together”
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel radio demon#hazbin hotel imagines#hazbin hotel headcanons#hazbin hotel characters#vivziepop hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#romantic alastor#alastor headcanons#alastor x reader#alastor#radio demon x reader#radio demon#romantic headcanons#romantic#hazbin hotel love#half angst#forgiveness#hazbin comfort#hazbin angst#mxm#gay Al for real#angel and demon duo#romantic alastor x reader
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TSH hot takes 🔥
-Julian was actually a dick. He isolated and groomed vulnerable students (do you think it's a coincidence that every single member of the greek class had a difficult home life?) into thinking that these very outdated concepts of love and power were good for them. He compared their dangerous behaviour to that of ancient gods. Then, rather than face the consequence of his actions and take accountability, he left when it mattered.
-Charles was an asshole, but he's not a scapegoat. You cannot blame all the problems on Charles, he was an addict as a result of his trauma. He needed help. This doesn't excuse him from his actions, but it explains them. At the beginning of the book he physically could not bring himself to hurt Camilla. He's not a "bad" person. He's a sick person.
-Bunny didn't deserve to die, but he was also probably going to condemn the group at some point. He didn't just die for no reason. (Believing that Bunny's death was truly pointless also means believing that Henry was an actual psychopath who killed his friend for shits and giggles.)
-Judy, Cloke and Sophie ended up the happiest. That is literally the moral of the book. Judy wasn't all tortured when Richard didn't want to hang out with her, she shook it off and kept living her life. That's literally the point.
-Richard was never in love with Camilla. He loved the idea of her, but didn't see her as a person. Because of this specific dynamic and the fact the Richard is narrating, we know nothing about her actual personality. Anything he says can be disputed, and a lot of it contradicts itself.
-Francis is not blameless or unproblematic, but of the group he probably had the best intentions. Most of his behaviour that can be interpreted as creepy can be chalked up to Richard's internalized homophobia (remember, everything is told from his point of view, and Francis was a gay man in the 80's) When you look objectively at what Francis did, you see that he made a pass, got rejected, then dropped it and moved on. There is (i think) one more attempt made later on in the book, and that is furthered by Richard and only interrupted when Charles shows up.
-Henry may be the metaphorical representative of death when talking about the book, but in the narrative it's important to remember he's also just a person. Otherwise everything he does seems beyond question, and he's assigned this label as just "evil." He was 21!! Literally still a kid
-There were not good or bad characters. The reason they hit so hard is because each of them are so layered. They all have good traits and bad traits, but calling one "evil" takes away their humanity and dismisses their complexity that makes them so great.
#the secret history#tsh#donna tartt#charles macaulay#camilla macaulay#henry winter#richard papen#bunny corcoran#francis abernathy#judy poovey#booklr#hot take
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logging back onto this website to say that while i dont think (???) it was intentionally done, the scene before their "last day" where frank is working on a portrait of bill, reminded me of keith haring's "unfinished painting"
comparison here before i explain:
keith haring's painting was purposely made to look incomplete. haring was diagnosed with HIV in late 1988, and died in early 1990, at the age of 31. the painting is a self portrait, hitting us with the gut-punch reality of how the aids-epidemic robbed haring of the right to finish his own story. the overwhelming amount of empty space is a glaring reminder that haring didn't just have a short life, he had an incomplete one. the piece points to all that empty space and says: this should have been filled out. this should all have been my art, my story, and my space. by claiming this empty space, haring claimed the empty space of his unlived life, that was taken from him and so many other people, by a negligent and homophobic society that refused to care about the pandemic ravaging an entire community worldwide.
now back to my original point: like i said, im really not sure if this was intentionally done by the show. but when i was watching this episode and i saw this scene, i immediately thought of this painting. the blue color of the eye trailing off onto the blank part of the canvas is, at least to me, a strong visual parallel.
and i feel like this visual parallel highlights some very important thematic parallels as well, which deserve to be talked about. in the show, the outbreak starts in 2003 which means that bill and frank have both lived through the aids-epidemic. they have seen people like them die. they have experienced the hatred and isolation that came with it. you could speculate and read into things ad nauseaum, but i thinks it's safe to say that in this place and time, this also plays into how careful and hesitant they are, when they first start to show intimacy with each other. in their world, they didn't even get to experience the legalization of gay marriage.
seeing as this show takes place during another, fictional, pandemic, airing at a time where the real world has just faced another actual pandemic, it is impossible to ignore this aspect of their story.
these two characters however, are not destroyed by the outbreak in the show. they find each other, they experience freedom, love, and a full life together. their life is not cut short.
in an absurd twist of fate, when the rest of the world is finally forced to experience what it's like to be abandoned by your government during a devastating epidemic, this is when these two people find happiness. they get to go running, and have fights, and grow strawberries, and have friends over for dinner.
and after spending nearly twenty years together, frank spends his last time working not on a self portrait, but on a portrait of bill, the love of his life. this is the sort of thing that rightfully should have filled the empty space of haring's work. finding love(s) spending your time together, that is a life lived.
and yet frank's painting is unfinished, because of course we are never truly done living. we are never truly done loving. but he got so much more time, so much more story, than the people we lost to the aids epidemic, which the trailing off blue paint reminds us of.
at the same time their house is absolute filled with all the paintings that frank did finish, showing us all the good days he got with bill. and in a way, i feel like that is the show being very aware of what it is: a complete, beautiful story about two men loving each other, in a world that sorely lacks these stories. a world where we had so many unfinished, incomplete lives, that we lack an entire generation of older gay men.
and even though i was completely reduced to tears by the end of this episode, the ending still filled me with some sort of mournful joy. because yes, even though it was incredibly sad to see their last day, these two men got to fill so much of their empty space. they got to experience love, and they got to live their life. like bill says: "im old. im satisfied. and you were purpose."
so many people didn't get that. keith haring didn't get that. a whole generation of queer people didn't get that. that makes this episode so much more moving for me, because it is not just an incredibly beautiful love story, but it is an incredibly beautiful love story that the world should rightfully have seen millions more of. but all those lives were incomplete.
so with the undeniable, but unspoken, presence of the aids epidemic in the narrative of these characters, this visual reference to keith haring and aids, purposeful or not, is incredibly meaningful.
#alright bye i just had to write all this down!!#tlou spoilers#tlou#the last of us#the last of us hbo#tlou hbo#bill and frank#the last of us episode 3
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Bunny Corcoran: Mother, Women and Sexuality (Masterpost)
Apologies for the shitty quality screenshot, idk why their quality got butchered.
Anyway I divided this thing into IV parts.
Intro
Camilla
Marion
Henry
INTRO & DISC.
Not to be a bunny apologist literally, he's sexist piece of shit, but you know whats funny? The way this fandom absolutely REFUSES to acknowledge the fact that, despite Richard's shady ass describing Bunny as "homophobic but not in a repressed way", Bunny could very well be gay or bi at the very least. The fandom just doesn't want to see it because he doesn't form "convenient" enough ships with major characters (he does. You guys are just cowards.)
Yes I know, sexist hetero men despise women just for being women, but they view women purely through a sexual lens. But Bunny's prude ass was NOT a pervert. I mean, this is the guy that got triggered when Richard asked him about his hickey.
Yes yes sexually repressed people can act prude-ish in front of people but be total pervs when alone, but nothing at all hinted at Bunny being a pervert who viewed women as walking meat bags. I just find it weird that the only two female companions he had (Marion and Camilla, aside from Judy bcs we never see them interact) he just...didn't like them. Camilla he was good to, occasionally, in a very platonic way ("paternalistic stance").
CAMILLA
And you know what drives me crazy? In this group of 5 boys and 1 girl, Bunny was the ONLY one who was never inappropriate (sexually) or sexual with Camilla. Even the openly gay guy in the group had kissed her at least once. Even her own brother-- not finishing that. Henry slept with her too. Richard kissed her, and wanted to sleep with her. Not Bunny. Yes, Bun was cruel to her in other ways, ordering her around, saying she was intellectually inferior, but he showed ZERO romantic interest in her. Which is kind of ironic to me. The only homophobe in that group was the only one not acting straight.
MARION
With Marion, my god, the way this boy behaved.
He called her his "reason of being", the purpose of his existence, but he could barely tolerate her. She was only a clip holding him together from those parts where he was falling apart; wounds left from a neglectful mother. Lets not mention how Marion is sort of an underdeveloped image of his mother; delicate, blonde, somewhat haughty.
That bitterness he probably feels towards Kathy was then pointed to Marion. Its so freaking clear that Marion is filling the "Mother" role in Bunny's life. She's "feminine" (a trait often associated with motherhood and vice versa), she's "bossy and businesslike". I don't need to explain this, I'm sure.
But watch Bunny's reactions to her; hes submissive for the most part.
For a man who's so incredibly sexist, it doesn't make sense for him to choose such a woman as his partner, does it? Now, either Richard entirely fabricated or exaggerated Bunny's sexism in order to justify his murder, or
His "dislike" for women didn't stem from the weird sexual obsessions misogynists tend to have, but from something else. It could be, purely, his mommy issues, or something else.
You know that whole, Bunny calling Marion that title, but treating her like a chore just reflects what a big performance his relationship truly was. He didn't love Marion, perhaps he liked her, appreciated or cared for her, but he didn't love her. Marion was, like every other thing in his life, just an element to uphold an image of himself. Potential beard? Maybe.
HENRY
Bunny's true "raison d'etre" might have not existed. The only person he could be said to gave been obsessed with was, truly, Henry. And im not just saying this for the sake of it. Bunny was invested in and attached to Henry, perhaps a result of his financial dependence on him.
I don't know guys, I just don't think its normal to snoop around your best friend's things often, or make multiple attempts to read their journal--
this boy was DESPERATE to know the inner workings of Henry's mind. Mind you, this is BEFORE Bunny found out about the murder, or had reason to suspect Henry for anything. Henry's said he was always nosing around for it, and he mentioned Bunny was an "obtrusive" roommate -- meaning this was normal occurrence for him around Henry. Yes, he was also kind of like this with others (Stealing stranger's foods, stealing Charles' cooking literally as he works in the kitchen) but neither of these required a sense of interest in the person he was stealing from. It was to serve his own needs.
Bunny also shows a reluctance to lose Henry.
After their fight, he's so overwhelmed that he doesn't know how to react (mentioned by Henry himself), and his first instinct is to try and cling onto whatever shred of normalcy there was left between them. Despite knowing the numerous cruel things Henry had written about him, Bunny just took it. He stayed somewhat amiable to Henry later. Yes, yes. He got annoying about "the blackmail" (or his inability to keep his mouth shut) but Henry and Francis BOTH tell Richard that Bunny doesn't see what he's doing as "blackmail".
In fact, i think Bunny the fool was trying to get "in" on the feeling of being in on a secret. Image below is regarding that German that started following them in Rome.
But his immediate reaction of pretending everything's fine isn't the first or last time he tries to keep things cool with Henry.
Henry, despite having to deal with Bunny's worst tantrums, was still treated with a degree of respect that seemed to be reserved only for him. Was he afraid of Henry? Hell no.
Bunny was never afraid of insulting Henry, or fighting with him. But he rarely ever got personal with him. Yes yes he complained about the money and every little thing, but the way he went after the rest of the class? Targeting their weaknesses? He would've known Henry's weakness, he was perceptive enough. But he didn't. He still treated Henry with respect. Deference. Described as "polite submission and respect".
With Henry, Bunny was totally emotionally vulnerable. Henry reactedd explosively twice during their arguments. The first is when he slapped Bunny so hard that he "left a big white mark on his cheek", and the second where he broke that chair when Bunny was fighting him in his room. Despite losing control, Henry maintained a level of composure. Bunny never did. He became hysterical each time, screaming and becoming violent the first time, but sobbing himself to sleep (IN HENRYS BED) the second time.
He slept in his bed. There was literally no reason for him to do that.
Except maybe he craved closure. Maybe he just missed his best friend. Maybe he was too shaken up to move from his spot.
And I don't want none of you fools being all "Henry didn't gaf about Bunny."
This is Henry's reaction to Richard essentially saying "You thought Bunny wouldn't be a problem??" And then reiterating that they're old friends.
Do you even understand the implications of that last line? Bunny, whose entire being was hidden under a carefully crafted persona, admitted his family's SHORTCOMINGS with HENRY. Bunny, whose image was everything for him. Perhaps his image WAS his raison d'etre. Bunny, who lived life as an illusion of his true self, projecting away his insecurities. Bunny, who would never admit that he was poor, that his family was flawed in any way, told Henry this. How many more things do you think he confessed, or what other parts of his past and home did he reveal?
Yes, he could have just been telling Henry those things to mooch him off, but he also mooched off his other friends.they didn't know a thing. Marion, who I believe his family hadn't met yet (?) Probably didn't even know. Amd if youre from a dysfunctional home, you already know the only people you've told about your home are special, hand-picked.
Henry was also the first and only person Bunny told about Camilla/Charles.
Perhaps it hurt him, being left out of such a major events of Henry's life because Bunny was sharing practically everything with him.
Alls I'm saying is, Henry meant more to Bunny than most people realize (and dare I say, vice versa), and the only reason people don't see it is because RICHARD didn't see it (fool saw the potential of the dynamic but then was like "nah bunny's too ugly for that").
Bunny was most definitely either a repressed bisexual/gay man, and you cannot change my mind. And while his hatred of women is vile and inexcusable, it stemmed from a place of deep personal issues and insecurities.
Anyway. I'm done rambling LOL.
#MAN I KIND OF HYPERFIXATED ONNTHIS POST MY BAD#i hope i converted some poor soul out there to winterbunny#RICHARD SLANDER FOREVER#tsh#henry winter#tsh donna tartt#winterbunny#the secret history#winterhare#camilla macaulay#richard papen#bunny corcoran#marion barnbridge#katherine corcoran
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We need a so'lek x human x neteyam
Idk if you can do with three characters (but i hope you do)
Nothing out of the blue (got it??)
They are like a couple, but the na'vis are showing love to their tawtute. What i meant is that so'lek and neteyam aren't romantic with each other (gay)
Or if you're not comfortable with this, the reader could be their favourite tawtute. Nothing romantic, just being affectionate :)
Hellooooooo darling~!
So for this one, it will be like platonic fluff. I hope you are ok with this! Enjoy~!
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Pxoeng
[it makes sense to me]
Friends who grew up since diapers will get very comfortable with each other as time passes. Would call each other silly nicknames, refer to the other as family, or practically become family. They are close, where one cannot function without the other. As their lives orbit around the other. Friends can come as two, or in three. A trio if you will.
A trio is different from a duo. With a trio, you can dominate and conquer anything. Three is a crowd? No, three is a party. A party with inside jokes, fun memories and a perfect balance. Truly an unbreakable bond.
Which leads us to three certain people. Neteyam, Pxoeng, and so’lek. They are peak example of ‘three is a party’. You have the bright bubbly personality, the mature mother, and the crackhead street dog. You guess who is who.
“Is it poisonous?” Neteyam asks a bit worriedly, in front of him, his silly little idiot. Pxoeng, a human who likes to test things with her life. And sanity. “I don't feel anything, it tastes kinda sweet” she replies after eating a thick gooey substance leaking from a tree. Licking her lips, she lets the taste settle down, staying still for anything.
“We can always go to mo’at if anything happens” neteyam offers. Pxoeng nods in agreement, with that settled they continue on their walk. “Or we could go now” a deeper voice followed behind them. Turning around they see an unpleasant so’lek. Arms crossed, frown deep, and clearly not happy with pxoeng’s little stunt. The human girl frowned, matching his.
“I won't die from it. I ate plenty of inedible things and I am alive. Live a little so’lek, "she says. Rolling his eyes he turns to neteyam, “if she pukes, it's on you”. Neteyam shrugs and doesn't mind at all. “Lets go, we still have ways to go” so’lek says, taking the lead of the walk path. Pxoeng and neteyam followed suit, one on each of the older na’vis side. “You sure seem a bit grumpy today, did someone take the last of your favorite?” neteyam asks so’lek. It doesn't take a word out of his mouth to respond but so’lek gave his answer with a grunt.
“I know! For lunch let's gather some of your favorite mushrooms to make your favorite stew, how does that sound?” Pxoeng suggests. Giving a moment of thought, so’lek nods. “Yes, that would be nice”.
The three continued on until they reached their destination. Their little piece of heaven, ‘Arch heart’ as pxoeng named it. It was a comfortable little cave, filled with paintings, food, hammocks and among other things, built to feel like a second home. Away from their main home.
Neteyam entered first and began to roll up some screens to let more light inside. Pxoeng grabbed a fruit and dumped herself onto her hammock and so’lek sits on the edge to enjoy the view of the outside.
For a while neither of the three said anything, just doing their little tasks here and there. Letting the silence be the comforting sounds to soothe them. It is their favorite part of the day. Just the three of them together in their solitude. No tasks, no chores, no one to take time off of their day. Just pure tranquility.
“Ok ok, how about…..we use some pali’s to pull the cart and maybe the ikrans can carry it on here. Aaaand whala! We can have nice comfy bean bags in here” Pxoeng explains her little idea after they had a nice hearty dinner in their cave.
Night arrived, so to be more comfy, so’lek still sitting on the edge but this time pxoeng and neteyam joined him. Pxoeng sat on his lap while she laid her head on neteyam’s lap. Doing as his mother taught him, neteyam calmly massages pxoeng’s head as so’lek squeezes her thighs from time to time.
“But aren't bean bags easy to tear? The ikrans would tear it apart with their claws” Neteyam says. His playfully boops his nose, “that is why I said to use a cart. So that the bean bags won't get damaged”.
“No bean bags, the hammocks are enough” So’lek interjected. The other two look over at him in slight confusion. “But you like the bean bags,” Neteyam says. So’lek looks at him then back at the sky. Slightly smirking, the boy playfully shoves the older’s shoulder only to receive an annoyed hiss. “No no, he is right. You are the first to body slam on a bean bag. Wouldn't it be nice to have some here and not sit near the edge like…an edgy anti hero” Pxoeng says.
So’lek sighs, not tired, not annoyed, just a sigh.
“Fine,
“YES!”
“But you and neteyam are carrying them all the way up here”
“What?!”
"But they are heavy...”
So’lek lets out a hearty laugh as he enjoys their expressions. Especially Pxoeng. Neteyam calms her down by stroking her hair. Pxoeng lays her head on neteyam’s head as she starts to play with so’leks fingers.
“Fine, we will carry them, but they are for us and none for you so’lek”
“Now hold on
Aaaaaaaand that is it for this one! Sorry if it was short, but its short and sweet! Until next time! See ya!
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Pxoeng = We, three, inclusive
#avatar#avatar the way of water#na'vi x reader#na'vi avatar#avatar 2#na'vi x human#neteyam sully#neteyam fluff#neteyam x you#neteyam x reader#neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan#avatar twow#atwow neteyam#neteyam x human reader#neteyam x y/n#so'lek x reader#so'lek x you#so'lek frontiers of pandora#avatar frontiers of pandora#so'lek x reader x neteyam
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Book recs: Queer fantasy, part 1
A note: queer here does not necessarily mean “guarantee of an f/f or m/m ship with a happy ending”, but rather simply a significant presence of queerness. Some of the books feature no romance but has a same gender attracted/trans/a-spectrum lead, or features an m/f relationship with bisexual, trans or aro/ace characters, or simply features a world-building which is heavily queer inclusive in ways that don’t always compare to our own ideas of sexuality and gender. I have however disqualified works where the only queer presence is along the lines of “gay best friend” or a blink and you’ll miss it confirmation that never comes up again.
For queer sci-fi recs, click here! For a masterpost of book rec lists, click here! For more details on the books recommended here, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites!
The Spear Cuts Through Water by Simon Jimenez*
AKA the book the killed me. Two boys travel throughout their land with the body of a god as her horrible, horrible children try to hunt them down. It’s hard to explain more than that, but trust me when I say the narrative voice and literary techniques are incredibly unique in how they blend past and present, reality and story, lead and bystander. Truly an experience. Features an m/m romance.
The Unbroken (Magic of the Lost series) by C.L. Clark*
Tourraine, who was stolen as a child and trained as a soldier for the empire that conquered her home, is recruited by Luka, the future leader of the conquering country, to root out a rebellion. A game of twisted loyalties and attraction is soon to develop as the two must decide where their priorities lie: with each other, or with their respective countries and people.
Sing the Four Quarters (Quarters series) by Tanya Huff*
Though a royal by birth, princess Annice renounced her throne to become a bard, a musician who through training can Sing elemental spirits to do their bidding. Ten years later, she goes on the run for two counts of treason, first by imperiling the succession order by becoming pregnant, second by helping her ex, and the father of her child, escape the palace dungeons and a death sentence. Bisexual lead in an f/f relationship. When I first read this book I described it as, and I quote, 'a fucking delight', and I stand by that.
The Unspoken Name (The Serpent Gates duology) by C.L. Clark*
The sort of portal fantasy you get when all the worlds connected by portals are fantasy worlds, and none of them are ours. The portals themselves become simply a part of the worldbuilding that the characters use to travel between fascinating places, and it’s all really cool. It follows Csorwe (lesbian orc assassin whom I love), who grew up in a cult, indoctrinated as a child sacrifice to a god. But on the day she was meant to die, she instead chose to follow a powerful wizard and train to become his loyal servant and sword. Aside from being an excellent fantasy, it’s also a close look at the hard path of unlearning indoctrination and the search for love and validation where you’ll never find it, and learning to live for yourself. Multiple queer leads.
The Jasmine Throne (The Burning Kingdoms series) by Tasha Suri
A princess held captive by her own brother, who wants to see her dead, tries to trick a servant into helping her escape, but with undeniable attraction growing between them and the servant having her own goals of liberation things quickly get complicated, both between them and in the country at large as rebellion and dangerous magic brews. Sapphic romance.
The Priory of the Orange Tree (The Roots of Chaos duology) by Samantha Shannon
Queen Sabran's lineage has protected the country of Inys from dragons for a thousand years, but now the safety of their land is threatened as Sabran is yet to conceive and assassins are closing in. Lady-in-waiting Ead is secretly part of a society of hidden mages, and is using her position to protect her queen. Meanwhile, on the other side of the sea, dragonrider Tané is faced with an impossible choice. The fates of all three are intertwined as they attempt to stop the rise of a great dragon. 800+ page epic fantasy. Sapphic romance.
The Raven and the Reindeer by T. Kingfisher*
Young adult, fairy tale retelling of the Snow Queen. When Gerta's friend Kai is stolen away by the evil Snow Queen, Gerta must depart on a mission to save him. On the way, she encounters, among others, a talking raven and a pretty robber girl who become her allies. Sapphic romance.
The Rise of Kyoshi (Kyoshi duology) by F.C. Yee*
Young adult. Set in the Avatar universe, but aimed at an older audience than the animated series. Though she will one day be one of the most well-known avatars of the land, for now, young Kyoshi is but a humble girl who has yet to find out her true destiny as the bender of all four elements and keeper of balance of her world. When betrayal strikes and a dear friend is lost, Kyoshi goes on the run alongside fiesty firebender Rangi to find out the truth of her destiny and power. Sapphic romance.
Legends & Lattes (Legends & Lattes series) by Travis Baldree
Viv is tired of adventures and bloodshed - now she wants a peaceful life, and decides to go after it by opening a café. But going from warrior to small business owner is easier said than done, especially when Viv's old life comes knocking. Best described as a cozy fantasy, with a largely low-stakes but heartwarming plot and a sapphic romance.
Phoenix Extravagant by Yoon Ha Lee
Gyen Jebi is an artist, but making a living is difficult. When offered a job by the Ministry of Armor to paint the magical sigils that animate their automaton soldiers, they have little choice but to accept. But as Jebi sees the dark depths of the government, especially the shocking source of their magical paint, they must find a way to resist. Perhaps by freeing the Ministry's mighty automaton dragon... Nonbinary main character.
Crier's War by Nina Varela
Young adult. Who says sci-fi has monopoly on robots? In Crier’s War, artificially created automae have defeated and subjugated humans, who live as second class citizens. Young Ayla goes undercover as a servant, meaning to assassinate automae girl and Sovereign’s daughter Crier. This would be easier if the two weren’t quick to develop feelings for each other.
Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky trilogy) by Rebecca Roanhorse
In a pre-columbian inspired world, sea captain Xiala, gifted with an unusual connection to the sea, travels with a mysterious scarred and blind passenger toward a dangerous goal as prophecy heralds the return of a god. Features among others bisexual and nonbinary leads.
The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin*
In a world regularly torn apart by natural disasters, a big one finally strikes and society as we know it falls, leaving people floundering to survive in a post apocalyptic world, its secrets and past to be slowly revealed. We follow a mother as she races through this world to find and save her daughter, stolen away by a father who just murdered their son after having discovered a terrible secret of their family. Does feature multiple queer characters and a main polyam relationship, but DO NOT read this expecting happy queer relationships as this series handles many dark subjects (you should still read it though, it's incredibly good).
In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan*
Young adult. Kids who can walk between our world and a magical one get recruited into a magical school that trains them to be either fighters or diplomats. Our lead decides that fighting is stupid and that he’s going to peacefully solve every conflict ever, all while being the most delightfully obnoxious little brat possible and getting involved in the most bisexual love triangle imaginable. Very good, funny, and heart-felt coming of age story.
Our Bloody Pearl D.N. Bryn
A siren who’s been held captive by a pirate is freed, but too injured to survive on their own as their tail has become paralyzed. Another pirate captain decides to help them out and has to work to win their trust. Fairly fluffy and light on world-building and plot (though there is a bit of a revenge story in there), with a focus on character and recovery. m/nb romance with an asexual love interest.
A Master of Djinn by P. Djélí Clark
Set in an alternate 1910’s steampunk Cairo, where djinn and other creatures live alongside humans. We get to follow an investigator as she races to catch a criminal using a powerful object to control djinn and stir unrest. Fantastically creative and fresh, and also features a buddy cop dynamic between two female leads as well as a sapphic romance.
Black Water Sister by Zen Cho*
As a toddler, Jessamyn Teoh left Malaysia. Now a young adult, she’s broke, closeted, and moving back. There she’s faced with the ghost of her estranged grandmother, Ah Ma, who was a medium and avatar of the deity the Black Water Sister in life. Now she demands Jess' help in exacting revenge against a gang boss that offended her god. Meanwhile, all Jess wants is to get her life back on track.
Heaven Official's Blessing (Heaven Official's Blessing series) by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu
Once, Xie Lian was the beloved crown prince of a kingdom. Then he rose to godhood at a young age, and was expected to take a step back from his land and his people, but in his inability to do so ended up losing everything. Now, eight hundred years later, Xie Lian has ascended to godhood for a third time, forgotten by mortals and the laughing stock of Heaven. Trying to rebuild his reputation, Xie Lian sets off on a mission, and on it encounters an infamous demon king who inspires fear in all of heaven. M/M romance.
Jane, Unlimited by Kristin Cashore*
Young Adult. Jane is invited by an old acquaintance to an extravagant gala in an island mansion, stranding her among the rich and glamorous. But being surrounded by rich people is the least of Jane’s problems: the mansion is housing secrets, some of them tied to Jane’s own family. The mansion offers her five choices, all of them leading her down different paths and different answers. Jane, Unlimited is a choose-your-own adventure story of sorts, featuring five different endings in five different genres, each more off the wall bonkers than the next. It also features a bisexual main character!
Every Heart a Doorway (Wayward Children series) by Seanan McGuire*
A tumblr favorite, the Wayward Children novellas feature a school open to children who have returned from adventures in other realms and now have trouble adapting back to regular life. Some installments are set in our world, others follow children as they have their otherworldly adventures. The main characters vary between books, but are generally pretty diverse with among others asexual, trans, intersexual and sapphic leads. Both funny and dark, it takes a closer look at the trauma many endure growing up different.
The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern*
Surreal and fairy tale-esque, The Starless Sea is stories within a story, following graduate student Zachary as he finds a strange book which, in-between other tales, tells a story from his own childhood. Trying to find out how this came to be, Zachary gets involved with a pink-haired woman and a handsome man who are doing their utmost to protect a strange, otherworldly library available only through magical doors. It’s a book hard to put in words, but which I once described as “romantic without being a romance while stile having a love story at it’s core”, and which can be summed up only as “an Experience”. It’s also quite gay!
Not Even Bones by Rebecca Schaeffer*
Young adult. Nita isn’t a murderer - technically. She just dissects the bodies of supernatural beings her mother brings home and sells for parts on the black market. But when her mother brings home a still living victim, Nita has had enough and frees him. As it turns out, no good deed goes unpunished as Nita is betrayed, her own nature as a supernatural entity outed as she’s kidnapped and placed behind bars. Now she must find a way to escape before she's sold for parts. Features two aroace leads and a queerplatonic relationship, though it isn’t made textual until book 3 and briefly masquerades as a romance, which is pretty hilarious.
The Last Sun (The Tarot Sequence) by K.D. Edwards
Urban fantasy. Rune Saint John is the only survivor of the massacre against the Sun Court years prior. Now he’s been hired by Lady Judgement to find her missing son, Addam. Alongside his companion and bodyguard Brand, Rune goes on to question Addam's family and business contacts all over New Atlantis, island city and home of the Atlanteans after their original home was destroyed by ordinary humans. But the more he digs, the more Rune finds clues that Addam's absence is connected to Rune's own tragic past. M/M romance.
Gossamer Axe by Gael Baudino
Centuries ago in Ireland, Chairiste Ní Cummen was trained in the secrets of music and magic. But her pride was her downfall, trapping her and her lover in the land of the Sidh. Only Chairiste escaped, hoping to one day win her lover's freedom in musical battle with the fairy that holds her captive. Now she is Christa Cruitare, harp teacher in the modern world and all but resigned to her loss. Until she comes across a great new music: heavy metal. Taking one last chance to win her lover's freedom, Christa sets out to gather other skilled musicians and bring them with her in her final battle. Sapphic romance.
Bonus AKA I haven't read these yet but they seem really cool
Pantomime (Micah Grey trilogy) by Laura Lam
Young adult. On the surface, Gene's life is that of a noble debutante. In reality, she has secrets: she's both male and female, and has magical abilities that hasn’t been seen in an age. In the face of a betrayal from her parents, Gene runs away from home, dresses up as a boy, and joins a circus. Intersex main character.
Ghost Walk by Kay Solo
Maaya Sahni can see ghosts, and does her best to survive in her small isolated town by keeping her head down. But when an entire street full of people is spirited away by faceless specters that scares even ghosts, Maaya must find a way to stop the specters. Lesbian main character.
Swordspoint (Riverside series) by Ellen Kushner
In Riverside, duels are the way to settle disputes, and Richard St. Vier is the undisputed master of the sword - at least until a death is met not with awe but with outrage. M/M romance.
#nella talks books#I'm almost done with the fae rec list too! it should go up some time next week#after that maybe part 2 of queer sf
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I’m obsessed with @wheelersboy’s theory that Mike thinks Will is in love with El. It’s one of those takes that’s so simple, yet so perfectly explains every odd little detail you couldn’t quite account for before, that you know you’re on to a winner.
I always thought it was bizarre that the Willel reunion at NINA was framed in blatant love triangle imagery:
If this was supposed to be yet another reminder that the sad widdle gay boy has fee-fees for his best friend, we’d expect him to be gazing at Mike or otherwise looking conflicted at both of them. But he isn’t. His steady, adoring gaze is for El only. Yes, he loves her, but that love is strictly fraternal, so why the romance symbolism?
Is it straight-bait? This scene comes after his thinly-veiled love confession to Mike (in the same episode, no less), and the Duffers and Noah both made a point of confirming that Will was gay in post-vol.2 interviews, so making the audience think that Will is in love with El clearly wasn’t the intention here.
The Willel romance-coding isn’t for the audience -- it’s for Mike.
We often joke about Mike being crushed that Will didn’t laugh at his vomit green socks, but follow Will’s gaze -- it’s a little hard to see in the still image, but he’s staring at El, checking to see if she’s going to heed his advice. Mike's discomfort isn’t because he’s upset that Will didn’t like his joke, it’s because he doesn’t understand the weird tension between these two and is frustrated that his attempt to lighten the mood didn’t dispel it.
Mike’s smart enough to correctly connect the dots by the time Will starts sobbing in the van though: Will is destroying himself in his efforts to be supportive of the relationship between his best friend and the person he’s in love with.
But heteronormativity and a severe inferiority complex lead him to draw the wrong conclusion -- he thinks he’s the best friend and El is the one Will’s in love with, and that gets confirmed in his mind when he catches them making goo-goo eyes at each other at NINA.
And not once, after figuring it out, does he get jealous about it -- he guides El into Will’s arms at NINA, he looks conflicted as hell during the “I love you” monologue as Will hovers over his shoulder -- he just wants them to be happy and is prepared to put his own feelings aside to make it happen, even though it would hurt him terribly to do so. Exactly the same fucking thing Will is doing. It’s utterly farcical. I love this theory so much.
I’d like to springboard off this by taking a look at what it implies about S5.
Between Will’s history with Vecna and the Wonder Twins foreshadowing--
--it’s looking pretty likely that Will and El are going to be spending a significant amount of time together next season.
So we can already see that conditions are perfect for Mike to go through a similar arc as Will did in S4: being a third wheel between his best friend and the person he’s in love with and feeling like he can never truly be more than a third wheel, leading him to sacrifice himself in an effort to support what he thinks they have together.
Mike is very much at risk of doing something stupidly self-harming in S5 -- this is the same kid who jumped off a cliff to protect Dustin’s baby teeth, after all. He feels like he has no value if he isn’t needed by Superman. And there’s a goddamn mind-reading despair demon stalking his friend group.
Of course, it’ll all work out in the end. He’ll be saved at the last moment, the truth will be tearfully revealed, and we’ll finally get that big, dramatic, affirming kiss for our OTP.
You might have noticed that everything I’ve said in this analysis so far is consistent with either Byler or Milevn being endgame.
Many Milevns and GA members don’t just believe that Milevn will triumph over Byler -- they believe there isn’t any conflict between Milevn and Byler in the first place. The lack of evidence that Mike isn’t into boys is meaningless to the heteronormative mindset -- he’s the protagonist and dating a girl, therefore he’s straight, therefore Will’s hopes are dead in the water, therefore Mike has no romantic dilemma to solve.
By introducing a misunderstanding in which Mike imagines that his best friend is competing for his girlfriend -- couching his dilemma in relatable heterosexual terms -- the audience will be forced to accept that Mike is experiencing a distressing internal conflict involving Will and romance that won’t be resolved until the queer truth comes out.
The GA felt bad for Will in S4 because they assumed there was nothing he could do about it, but they’ll be tearing their hair out with frustration at Mike in S5 -- “you’re wrongly assuming he’s straight, you idiot! Just talk to him and this will all be cleared up!!”
It would be an absolutely genius way of getting the audience to question heteronormativity without them even realizing they’re questioning heteronormativity.
Once Mike’s queerness is revealed, the parallels between his arc and Will’s will suddenly become clear, and the audience will realize that, despite his straight-passing invisibility, Mike was just the other side of the same gay coin Will was on all along.
[Part 2]
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I don’t know if I believe in god, but I believe god would celebrate trans people. I think human diversity is beautiful, natural, and unique to all of us. I’ve also seen that the vatican released articles protecting transgender people under similar logic(please correct me if you see otherwise). Anyway, just wanted to counterbalance that anon semen hate thing.. lol
I know this is from a good place, and I'm gonna be the asshole here, but its difficult for me to accept the kindness you're trying to extend.
I think that seeking validation and a moral code from anything other than "live your life in a way that's going to make the most people the most real and happy, including yourself", including seeking that from some kind of being of external influence, makes you susceptible to guilt and manipulation by people who use the ever-changing "interpretation" of that will to get people to live to their interests as opposed to yours, and that this philosophy isn't limited to situations where the will of that being is interpreted as something that benefits me specifically because that feels like a shortsighted mental trap of constantly validating my own life decisions to myself in a nonstop cycle of searching for approval from an influence that, by definition, doesn't communicate with me.
And funnily enough, the Vatican is the perfect example. The statements you're talking about basically amount to the same "love the sinner, hate the sin" shit we've all heard for pretty much our entire lives, and was basically only written with the intent of inviting lgbt people in to try and save their poor little misguided souls:
https://www.reuters.com/world/europe/pope-francis-calls-studies-into-ugly-gender-theory-2024-03-01/
But thanks, I guess. Sorry to be a dick, I know this came from a good place, but its hard for me to mask my opinion on this kind of thing. I'll fully admit there's a personal sting here. I was the most patient, good little, explaining and validating tranny with a couple Christian "friends" earlier this year, only to find that they were stringing me along so they could try to "save" me. Trying to find validation in organized religion will always be a losing battle. These are organizations built upon decades of power structures that require specific family dynamics for population growth and control. I don't know if there's a god or not, by definition its really impossible to say one way or the other. But the Christian God is so transparently a tool for political manipulation in a way that should be obvious to queer people, and efforts to make the church seem "okay" for queer people more often than not have that same, thinly-veiled disgust associated with them. "oh, don't worry, we all have our little sins! Jeff gambles, Tom is gay, John smokes..." that kind of shit. That's not acceptance. It's thinly veiled disgust that will drop the moment there's an excuse.
Are there truly accepting Christians? Yeah, of course. But if you hand me a gun and claim its not loaded, I'm not testing it by pulling the trigger in my mouth.
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Ranking the best 10 Merlin episodes + a fic rec based on each one:
(absolutely not based on how gay they were) ((no order for the eps; they're all chef's kiss)) (((last two fics have a hold on me that levels the show itself; worth scrolling for)))
1. The Poisoned Chalice
Look. There is something just absolutely entrancing about introducing this episode in the first five of the entire show. Like, this hands-on was the sole reason everyone fell for those two idiots. It beautifully captured how the saving each other thing is reciprocal, because the first three episodes you just have to watch Merlin run around saving Arthur, never the reverse. Producing it early on in the show was the decision that, in my opinion, held everyone in their chokehold for eternity.
Fic rec: you are my favorite mistake (it can only be fate) by @multifandom-jess.
2. The Death Song of Uther Pendragon
I could go on and on for how this episode singlehandedly carried s5 on its shoulder. Like, okay I unfortunately love s5 with all my fucking heart, but this episode was perfect. Ghosts? Check. Banter? Check. POETRY?? Check check. A slap to Uther's face? Oh how beautifully checked.
It's so easy to recall how Arthur truly loved his father, but in this episode, the turmoil you see in his eyes from the actions of his father and how he resorts to saving the ones he loves (Merlin) over his father, is just too beautiful to be overlooked. Ever since Arthur became king, we see him struggle from his father's legacy. But in this episode, he begins to detach both consciously and subconsciously from him. Whether it's in his decision to save the old sorceress in the beginning, or to shun Uther's ghost, both the literal and the figurative, from his life any longer. This was one of the episodes that captured the true essence of King Arthur.
+1: the innuendos of this episode were 🤌. They knew what they were doing, you can't convince me otherwise. (are you threatening me with a spoon? / I'm teaching him some poetry.. he can't get enough of it! / what was that? h-horseplay. why don't I show you?)
Fic rec: My heart is readily yours by @regulusrules. (absolutely love how after all this introspection, i decided to throw it all away and made uther stab merlin in the fucking heart instead. but still it was my honourable attempt to shit on the finale and give them the happy ending everyone deserved).
3. The Sword in the Stone pt. 2
OKAY. This episode! Aside from how badass Merlin was in both pt.1&2, but here, especially in the part where us audience were impatiently waiting for the revival of the sword in the stone, there could've been nothing more perfect. Just like their adaptation of the round table scene, this was perfect in its own way for how different it was. They didn't make it so that people will finally find a king; they made it so that the people believe in their king. And more than that, for Arthur to believe in himself. With the estrangement and losing his crown, the writers gave him the best way to re-establish his inner glory. And Merlin being this guide; what more perfect culmination to their relationship?
You have to believe, Arthur.
Iconic.
Fic rec: Couldn't choose between Only Friend by @captain-ozone, and Fathom Me Out by @supercalvin. Brilliance ahead in both of them, I tell you.
4. The Eye of the Phoenix
Magic. Gwaine. Quests. Need I say more to explain that this was the show's holy trinity?
Fic rec: From Past to Present by flowersheep. (Prince Merlin. Archer Merlin. Perfection my friends).
5. A Servant of Two Masters
Look look; if there's an honourary wall of opinions for all the people who've watched Merlin, I DARE you to find just one who disliked this episode. Like, the series was so full of BS sometimes, but this episode was above all. The level of brilliance in this episode; showing Dark!Merlin, who's at the same time hilariously funny, and seeing him BAMF his way with Morgana, even when he's chained and tortured.. oh dear holy Lord. His "do me a favour, could you? let Arthur know." was able to steal all breath from my lungs the first time I saw it (and until now).
And don't get me started on the Protective!Arthur we got. Caring for Merlin, screaming for him when the rocks fell between them, silencing Agravaine immediately when he told him he's sorry for losing such a loyal servant because bullshit if he doesn't reign down hell before he loses Merlin. And ofc, Courage and Strength on their way to find Magic, which just filled my heart with an 'aaahhh!' moment, because we didn't get enough Gwaine-Arthur-Merlin shenanigans. And at last, the Hug™. Fucking screamed let me tell you.
It is an episode that truly showed everything; from comic elements to fluff and angst and everything. The only thing it lacked was, as always, giving Arthur the space to know. Because ffs what would they have lost if they made Arthur understand that Merlin's under Morgana's control? It wouldn't have exposed shit. It would've just been a plus to us to see Arthur caring for Merlin even more. They tried so hard that it completely backfired sometimes.
Fic rec: Still I Surface in Morning Light by @queerofthedagger. (I swear to you, anything written by this author, I readily throw whatever in hand to read it).
6. The Dragon's Call
Let thy gif caption speak.
No but really, that first episode was the stuff of legends. I could list down tens of tropes they did in just that episode alone. Honestly, no "family" show I've ever seen had started this powerfully. Just the music alone, the beauty of beginnings, not the CGI, was truly so gripping. Also bonus points for just Colin Morgan's sass abilities. None can compare.
Fic rec: This Time Around... series (incomplete) by Oneiric (lkdaswani). (this is a time travel AU, but the way the writer rewrote this episode was one of the best deviations I've read for an episode I already find near faultless).
7. The Sins of the Father
I might be subjecting myself to true wrath with my upcoming statement, but here we go:
S2 sucked.
From the beginning of the season, Arthur's shift in characterization from the honourable lovable prat of s1 to a letting Merlin act as a horse stool got me going wtf? It was like they deliberately ruined everything in their relationship and started out fresh just to force the Arthurian narrative of Arwen. And it's fine by me, truly, even if I'll never ship them, but they could've developed Arthur's character SO MUCH in that season beyond comic relief and romantic rendezvous.
Anyway so that I don't stray so much from the topic; this episode was, by fair comparison, the best in the entire season. By now it's pretty obvious that I gravitate towards all the episodes that give Arthur a semblance of agency. Him going against Uther and his maniac murderous agenda was the start of actually seeing King Arthur in front of us. Also, him listening to Merlin when he was on the verge of committing patricide was one of the things that gave me hope in how there's still hope in them. Even if they ruined it with making Merlin lie to Arthur, but the writers practically ruined every good episode with this.
+1: Morgause's intro was badass.
Fic rec: The Sins of the Father (and how to right them) by @cupcakezys. (what we deserved. to see arthur with agency, with an ability to decide for his future without being lied and deceived to).
8. Diamond of the Fucking Day
No matter how much I hate this episode, I can't, in good conscience, deny its hold on my heart. As I wrote before, there could've been no better magic reveal than this. And for all of my bitterness over their decision to kill Arthur, I sanely admit how it was a decision that insured the immortality of this fandom. It's been ten years since that episode aired, and I bet my ass off that it will still feel the same even after countless more decades.
Fic rec: literally the entirety of the fandom's fix-it fics. We all started from there, didn't we? Choosing only one would be so undervaluing to all the brilliance I've seen. However, my tags filter for it usually include: fix-it, angst with a happy ending, court sorcerer merlin, shitting on bbc writers 101, canon era, not canon compliant, everybody lives especially king arthur you mfs.
9. The Wicked Day
Throw me from the highest tower there is because every time I remember this scene, I just want to fade into the light. The sheer level of love and understanding shimmering between those two. Sometimes I marvel at the choice of bringing Colin and Bradley together, because no two could have achieved such chemistry, platonic or not, as those two did. This whole episode of showing Arthur's grief, and Merlin's desperation to heal it, was truly unforgettable. I try not to linger on its ending, Arthur denouncing magic for the millionth of time, but other than that it was a gem served to us on a silver platter.
Also seeing Uther finally die was a plus.
Fic rec: As much as I'd love to recommend my own fic for this, but honestly, whenever I get the chance, I will always take it to scream and wail about one of my absolute favourite fics of all time, which really isn't given ANY of the goddamn credit or attention or kudos it deserves. Beauty in the Ashes of Our Lives by Fulgance. I swear to you, you will never read something as beautifully heartbreaking as this. This fic resides in my mind rent-free. Basically any work by Fulgance is amazing, but this fic— oh God, my heart cannot take it sometimes.
10. Arthur's Bane pt. 1
Fuck, that episode was a masterpiece. You know, if it was all in my hands, I would've magic revealed at this particular episode. It was just.. the perfect opportunity. King Arthur in his glory, beginning of the season, enough time for Arthur to fully understand the depth of what Merlin did for him. Also, the range Arthur was given starting from here; God it's what we deserved. I always blame the writers for being inconsistent with his characterization (s2 and all), but they beautifully crafted it in the end, and it was their perfect chance to even explore the whole extent if only they made the magic reveal earlier.
Fic rec: Our broken pieces by @aramblingjay. Okay so this fic rec isn't necessarily linked at all to the episode, but I can't, in good conscience, recommend fics and not include it. Technically context wise it fits s5, for in it you see Arthur in his grandeur as king. This shall be my only exception because it's the only fic that was able to make me cry. Truly, I never shed tears, but in this, my heart stuttered. The fact that it is so unnoticed makes my blood boil because of how much praise it deserves. I can never recommend it enough.
To conclude, BBC Merlin has a powerful hold on everyone because of the fact that they knew how to eternalise it. It is significantly unique in its interpretation of legendary figures. I think I watched nearly all adaptations of King Arthur throughout the years, but even with how great some really are, to me none compare with this sword-swishing, banter-driven, CGI-messing, emotionally-killing 2008 show.
Honorary mentions:
| The Labyrinth of Gedref | Gwaine | Le Morte D'Arthur | Lancelot | The Coming of Arthur | The Moment of Truth | The Hunter's Heart | His Father's Son | The Darkest Hour |
[Short fic recs]
[Long fic recs]
#merlin#welcome to a long ass critical appreciation for my favourite show in the world#with fic recs because writers deserve longlasting fame too#arthur pendragon#bbc merlin#merlin bbc#ao3#merthur#merlin x arthur#king arthur#merlin fic#did I say that I love these fics so much already?#merlin fic writers are a godsend#regulusrules metas#regulusrules recs
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part one
The issue with Will Solace is not that he is sarcastic and flirty. In fact, Nico finds that part of it incredibly endearing. The issue is that he acts that way with everyone. He had this underlying level of charm to him, one that seemed to lay under his skin and was deemed incapable of being washed away. It was the way he could banter with practically anyone like they were an old friend, granted most of them were but still, and starting conversations never seemed to prove any form of difficulty to him.
Nico pondered this as he watched Will stroll around the infirmary, his incredibly serious clipboard in hand. It didn’t bother Nico, it’s not like he would even admit it if it did, that the healer would share grins and jokes, and those stupid winks of his. It was truly unfortunate, in Nico’s eyes, that Will had been right. On some level, he did in fact have an undeniable charm to him. You have to be blind not to notice it.
“Has anyone told you that you have a staring problem?” Will had turned back towards Nico, one hand on his hip the other dangling at his side with the clipboard.
Nico flushed, playing it off with his trademark eyeroll, “You may have mentioned this.”
“It’s rather ironic, considering that you have trouble with eye contact,” Nico could nearly hear the playful smirk on Will’s lips, he didn’t need to look up from the speck on the floor to know it was there. “Maybe it’s just that overwhelming amount of charm I have.”
“I do not. And it’s not. You’re not-” Nico huffed, the words not settling right in his throat even after they were spoken. This was just downright unfair. The son of Apollo had this unsettling habit of constantly looking at the people he was speaking to, like directly at them. It made Nico flustered very often, another thing he would never admit, the idea that Will Solace was directly perceiving him as they spoke was enough to cause his sentences to trip and fall on the way out. It wasn’t as if he was pointedly trying to avoid eye contact either, the idea of staring someone directly in the eyes, especially if they happened to be Wills eyes, while trying to converse? Downright distracting in every way.
“Oh yeah, you’re totally cooked, too far gone.” Will shifted his weight, stepping closer to Nico and oh-so-casually leaning up against whatever piece of furniture was nearest. He said a silent thank you to the gods that it wasn’t a rolling cart this time.
“What does that even mean?” Nico peeled his gaze up and pointed it directly at the other boy's eyes, fighting against the uneasy feeling in his stomach.
“You’re obviously succumbing to my dangerous levels of charisma,” Will said, his words flourished with an ever dramatic and overly poetic tone.
“You are so incredibly pathetic.” Nico did his best to lace his own words with anguish and mild amounts of disinterest, he would have liked to think he had picked up pretty good acting skills over the past few years of deception. He, in reality, was not as destined for the stage as he hoped.
“Dudes love a distressed and pitiful man, y’know”
Nico’s face flushed bright red. Did Will know? How could he have known? Nico hadn’t told him about his not-so-secret secret. I mean it was exactly a secret at this point, a lot of people knew he was gay. A lot as in, maybe five people? Still, Nico wasn’t exactly parading that information around freely to anyone who held a conversation with him. Nicos mind shifted, Will had been talking about himself, perhaps the medic was speaking out of his own interest. It wouldn’t be unlikely, I mean if Nico had it correct Kayla had two dads. Maybe it ran in the family? Nico still wasn’t entirely sure how all of it worked. Piper had tried to explain it to him after a conversation he’d had with Jason, who proved to be very supportive but truly not much help, but her own knowledge was limited and Nico had gotten too embarrassed and left. Regardless, the thought swarmed around his head at a million miles an hour, he began to wonder if he had inhaled a swarm of flying insects at some point that had just now decided to wake from hibernation. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought about the possibility that Will took interest in other guys before, (out of pure, harmless curiosity, naturally.) but for some reason that statement had made it feel significantly more tangible.
“Hate to interrupt your very productive inventorying,” Kayla appeared from the back of the infirmary, Nico had almost forgotten that she had been there, “But I am incredibly bored and leaving you for archery practice.”
Will, looking to be very slightly embarrassed, glanced at the watch around his wrist and then around the room, appearing to make his mind up on if the infirmary would fall to pieces if she left. Nico didn’t think Will had a choice even if he did speak up, he had learned in the past few weeks that there really is no changing Kayla’s mind once it is set.
“Very well, I will simply have to suffer through your absence.”
“Ugh you’re so dramatic Will,”
Finally, Nico thought, someone sensible around here.
“I am just living my truth,” Will sighed, placing a hand over his heart and setting his face with feigned hardship.
“Yeah, yeah,” Kayla was mostly out the door, she turned back and shot a mischievous glance at her brother, “Try and get some actual work done will ya? And leave the poor boy alone, he’s suffered enough, he doesn’t need your ridiculous excuse of flirting to further it.”
When Nico looked over at Will he was surprised to see that they were roughly equal shades of red. That didn’t help Nico quiet the blush spreading across his face at rapid rates. Was Will actually flirting with him? There could be no way. He must act this way with everyone, there was no chance Nico could be that special.
Will cleared his throat, “Well, let’s get to work then.”
Nico gladly hopped down from his perch on the desk, grateful for any form of distraction. The infirmary was rather quiet, by some miracle. Only two beds were occupied. The summer air was warm and drifted through the room via the open windows that Will claimed would “help the healing”. It had grown to be a rather comfortable, consistent place for Nico, assuming it was overfilled and unstaffed (which was unfortunately often).
Will set him to work almost instantly, handing him a consistent stream of bandages to sort by size and file away into cabinets. They chatted as they worked, casual friendly banter that flowed naturally between them. Luckily Kayla’s comment seemed to knock a little bit of Wills obsession with being charming out of him for the moment being, Nico totally wasn’t even upset it in the slightest.
—
As their chore wore down slowly and the afternoon hot and late, Will plopped down onto and empty cot, laying back and letting his eyes shut. “Thank you again for the help, Neeks.”
“Yeah, anytime.” Nico replied, following Wills lead and falling on the cot beside him.
The two sat, a moment of shared silence between them. Will scootched closer to Nico, their legs brushing together as they hung off the edge of the mattress. Nico could feel Wills gaze burning into his cheek and reluctantly turned to meet his eyes.
“Hi,” Will said, his voice no more than a whisper.
“Hi,” Nico replied, “Why are you whispering?”
“Because.”
“That’s very specific and helpful.”
“You’re welcome,” Will eyes seemed to be tracing every detail of Nico’s face, his lips tugging into the softest most relaxed smile Nico had ever seen. Will readjusted his head, shifting it closer to Nico’s, their faces just inches apart, Nico could almost feel his breath if he focused hard enough.
Despite every instinct in his body screaming at him to look away, Nico held his gaze on the boy next to him. He found it more and more difficult to get a sufficient amount of air into his lungs or feel anything other than the electricity coursing through his veins and the overwhelming thumping of his heart in every major arteries.
“We’re really close,” Nico blurted out, still uselessly whispering.
“Yeah,” Will held for a beat, looking intently at Nico, “I got lonely,”
“You’re laying next to me,”
“And I still feel too far away.”
Nico’s stomach tensed, his throat tightened, palms sweat, breathing more uneven and shallow than before. This couldn’t be happening right now, every muscle in his body felt as if it was set on fire by the sun itself. In this case, the son of the sun.
Nico could not muster another response, just kept his eyes locked with Wills.
“Is it working?” Will asked finally, in a breathy whisper that made Nico want to make decisions that could ruin his entire life.
Nico blinked, “What?”
“My charm. Is it working yet?”
Nico shot up, groaning, “Shut up, Solace, actually fuck you,”
“Is that an offer?”
“~NO!”
part three
#heroes of olympus#pjo hoo toa#percy jackson#solangelo fic#solangelo#nico di angelo#i actually didn’t proof read this#again#this might be on the longer side apparently#i’m playing into the pining but still in denial nico pov with this one#they just need to kiss already#will solace is a flirt#nico is easily flustered
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Strangers - Part 1 of ??
A very special shoutout to @jujoobedoodling for their amazing art, and for sharing this neat little idea with me when I asked if there's any sort of fics they'd like to see.
So, fellas, is it gay to make Sylvaina fall in love over prison letters, in a nutshell? I dunno. Let's find out.
5146 Words
Read it on Ao3!
“I wasn’t expecting company.”
Jaina wants to assure her she didn't come to stare at her like she's some sabercat in a cage—teeth dulled on the bars, roar hoarse and failing. Only she realizes now that this is exactly why she's come. A wave of shame threatens to crash over her, but she dismisses it. She came to deliver Veressa’s letter, and to banish the notion that Sylvanas Windrunner truly was a stranger to her.
Staring at Sylvanas, waiting for her to rattle the bars of her would be cage, would do neither of those things for her.
“Certainly not you,” Sylvanas continues, drawling out the last word with her high, nasally elven accent, still chiming in a banshee double-tone.
They stand now in the Maw, where Jaina had been asked by her friend to draw an interdimensional portal to deliver a letter to her sister as only she and a handful of other mages on Azeroth could. Jaina had been reluctant to agree. She had refused at first, of course.
But here she was, all the same.
You, with that drawl and sneer and the arrow still aimed between her eyes, was about all that Jaina deserved from this woman. After all, Vereesa was right—at best, they were strangers.
“What is it you’ve come for? To deliver more demands from Tyrande? To report to her? To make sure I am completing my penance? Or did you come to gloat?”
The accusations pile up. Jaina lets them. She scans the tangle of strange and unnatural rocks jutting from the charcoal earth of this literal hell. It doesn’t take her long to realize she’s stumbled upon Sylvanas’ camp. Her home here in the Maw, simple, but well lived-in. The undead have no need for food or sleep and suffer minimally from lack of shelter, and while Jaina knows this, she still observes a makeshift bedroll, the embers of a dying fire, clustered close to a lean-to made mostly of chunks of dull grey metal, once the armor of some great beast or terrible construct long since vanished after its master’s defeat.
It has been a year on Azeroth. Jaina knows time stretches in the Shadowlands, but not by a factor of how much. She wonders how long it has been since Sylvanas has seen another person. Two years? A decade? A century?
The woman herself is little better than her camp. Her armor sits beside the fire, mostly shrugged off in rest, and while it looks well-kept, it is still worn. The dark leathers she wears beneath it, and now exclusively, are much the same. At first glance, they do not look so different as when she lay in Oribos after her own defeat, as Uther bade them to wait for her to wake and explain her actions. However, Jaina’s keen eyes find the rips and the tears, the mending that has been executed with scraps of grey cloth and grey metal and grey leather fashioned from the skin of a grey, doubly dead beast. Everything here is grey. Hell is devoid of color, but Sylvanas’ eyes burn into her, bright and blue, demanding an answer.
So she gives it, “None of those are my reason. Your sister, my friend…Vereesa asked me to come.”
Truly, Vereesa’s choices were limited. Only those who had walked the Maw, of their volition or Sylvanas’, could safely find it again. Only fewer of the great mages of Azeroth were capable of entering it without going through Oribos, or asking permission from the entities that ruled there. Jaina, Khadgar, and a few heroic Mawwalkers perhaps were the only ones who could have delivered this letter. And while Jaina had been reluctant, she was not about to offer Khadgar the excuse to use this place as another of his many distractions if Vereesa were to ask him instead.
At least, that was another one of her reasons for accepting.
Only now does the arrow lower, and the bow with it. At the mention of her sister’s name, Sylvanas gives up her fight.
“How can I trust her not to tear me apart, if we’re to be alone there?” Jaina had asked the youngest Windrunner sister, back in her office in Boralus, days ago.
“I suppose you can’t,” had been Vereesa’s answer. “You don’t know her.”
Jaina holds out the letter. It is folded neatly and sealed and she has done her best to resist the temptation to read it or even scry upon it with magic. Such is her trust for Vereesa. Her sister, not so much.
Perhaps this will be the end of it, then. She’ll deliver her letter. She’ll make arrangements for a response. She’ll leave. Sylvanas will go back to gathering souls, living even though she does not live, in this ramshackle camp—this prison of her own making. Jaina will have done something good and satisfied her curiosity. The sabercat will wither in her cage, having gained only further shame from her observation.
Jaina isn’t sure why she expects anything more than that, but she does.
“She wrote you a letter,” she explains. “I’m not able to bring her here like this for her to deliver it herself. Perhaps something can be arranged for her to visit by other means, if you’re interested.”
Sylvanas hesitates. Jaina watches her think.
She watches her closely, waiting for the muscles in her broad shoulders to twitch and aid in pointing her bow upward again. She finds more rends in her leathers, more attempts at mending. She watches, and finds a woman determined, though for what she isn’t certain.
Sylvanas Windrunner as she is now is a stranger to her. Once, her eyes burned red with rage and hatred and it was easy enough to say that Jaina had known her as an enemy. She and her Forsaken whispered, “Death to the living,” though they were of the same people Jaina had once led in Theramore—survivors of Lordaeron, as it were. Scarred in different ways by the same man.
Yet as before, even when Uther, dead and scarred by the same hand, bid Jaina to see reason and work with Sylvanas to defeat the Jailer, she cannot help but to fall into old habits. Magic pulses at her fingertips, waiting. She is ready for Sylvanas to attack her. She is ready to know her as an enemy once again.
This woman burned Teldrassil. She’d resurrected Derek to use against her. She’d blighted her own city in a rage rather than give it to the Alliance, to Jaina specifically, who had turned that battle in their favor.
Jaina is certain that this is still what she is—a burner and blighter, a screaming banshee that knows only hatred—and she’s ready for her.
She is not ready for Sylvanas to put down her bow and the arrow knocked within it, and begin to walk over to meet her.
She’s not ready for the soft muttering that follows, and the wry chuckle that comes with it, “I doubt Tyrande would allow me such a luxury as a visit from my sister.”
This is no banshee, no formless enemy. No, Sylvanas is an elf, still undead and still much unchanged from the last time Jaina saw her, but now walking toward her with purpose. She moves like Alleria, proud and powerful. She smirks a little, the same way as Vereesa does when she thinks no one is looking. Her hair, though dull and ashen in death, is a shade between Alleria’s honey gold and Vereesa’s cool silver.
“You’re so certain she’s changed?” Jaina had asked Vereesa before she’d left. “You were only allowed to speak with her for a few minutes.”
“I know my sister, Jaina,” Vereesa had replied, head tilted upward, smiling. “I know that I have her back, or I will, should she ever be allowed to return home.”
Where is home, Jaina wonders, holding out the letter, to a woman who died for her country, and razed the one she built out of the ashes of a nation everyone else abandoned?
If and when she completes her penance, who will want Sylvanas Windrunner, burner of trees, blighter of cities? Manipulated or not, she did these things. No amount of souls ferried to better places can change that. And while Vereesa claims much, she cannot move the inevitable mountains that will stand in her way if she chooses to defend her sister, to make a home for her in Azeroth again one day.
The dip of Sylvanas’ head upon her graceful neck seems to say to Jaina that she knows this. The way she holds up her hands, bare and long-fingered without any gloves or gauntlets to cover them, tells Jaina she knows what she is to her—an enemy still. A problem unwanted, surely.
But still, Jaina had agreed to come here. She is determined to make sure that the reason for it all was not as simple as gawking at a toothless beast, though Sylvanas doesn’t seem as though she will bite.
She takes the letter from her. She looks to her. She waits.
“I can’t speak for Tyrande, or any authority Oribos and its contingent might have on the matter,” Jaina tells her. “But I can deliver a reply, if you want.”
Now this close to her, Jaina can tell Sylvanas is taller than her sisters. More broad-shouldered like Alleria than slight as Vereesa is, bordering between both of them with the elder’s wildness and Vereesa’s well-manicured elven beauty. She is neither and both, but seems to have maintained some semblance of grooming, despite having no one to look nice for. Her hair is combed and neat. She is clean, with only the barest hint of the grey dust and ash that swirls in the air of this place clinging to her skin.
That grey, at least, is warm in nature, and Sylvanas’ is cold, more toward purple. Their meeting is an interesting contrast of hues.
“Very well,” she answers, one long finger tracing the seal on the letter as she eyes it. “I would offer you tea while you wait, but I have no such thing.”
While she waits. Jaina hadn’t assumed she’d be allowed to, asked to, or really anything but run off with sneers and insults at best, arrows at worst.
She supposes that if she hadn’t seen another person in a year, she too would want them to stay a while, no matter who they were. But has it been longer? The state of Sylvanas’ clothes says yes.
Jaina endeavors to break any falling of awkward silence to seek the answer, “It has been a year or so, on Azeroth, since I returned from the Shadowlands. Has it been the same for you?”
She stiffens, recalling who it was who brought her here the first time, though she saw little of Sylvanas then. Only the Mawsworn that were meant to hold her captive, and keep her from escaping Torghast, though she managed to do so several times. Jaina knows now that her purpose in doing so was just to keep her out of the way—to keep her from interfering with what was to be done with Anduin.
Anduin, another reason for her to come here. Yet she did not find him. The Maw is but one of many possible places the boy could have gone, though he’s hardly a boy anymore. Jaina knows what he did and was made to do weighs heavily on him. She’d thought that maybe he too would seek penance, and wouldn’t care if it was his own to seek, yet there is no sign of him here. This camp is meant only for one.
“There is no day or night here for me to know,” Sylvanas tells her as she slides a sharp-looking fingernail beneath the wax seal and opens the letter. “One could keep track by counting the hours, I suppose, but trust me, it is a dull pastime. It has been a long time. A very long time.”
A long time, Jaina thinks, to wear the same clothes and see no one but lost souls.
A spectral fluttering of wings catches her eye and reminds her that Sylvanas does have one other companion besides the souls she ferries. Dori’thur’s wide eyes catch Jaina’s as she looks up into the canopy formed by this tangle of rock, ironically almost nest-like. The owl spirit makes no motion to acknowledge her, so carefully does she watch her charge instead. Doomed or honored to be her warden, Jaina can’t decide. The owl, it seems, does not care either way. She just watches.
Sylvanas follows her gaze, and a little smile creaks its way into lips that seem to forget how to bend that way. “Don’t mind the owl. It loves to stare.”
“She. Dori’thur,” Jaina corrects.
Sylvanas’ blue eyes are wide for a moment, drinking in the information in a way that shows it is clearly new to her. No one bothered to tell her the name of her warden, really?
“I didn’t know,” Sylvanas confesses. “And here I’ve just been calling you owl this whole time,” she calls up at the spire of twisted stone that Dori’thur perches on.
The spirit cocks her head just slightly at Sylvanas, the first and only acknowledgement she gives.
Jaina stands for a moment, maybe two. She looks around at the humble camp, the spectral owl, the once fearsome undead elf in her ragged leathers, reading her letter with blue eyes that look strange on her.
Sylvanas looks up once Jaina’s gaze comes to rest on her. Her long brows furrow briefly, simmering in the awkwardness, the wrongness of this.
They have never met, despite all the things they both share and do not share, in a way that allowed them the luxury of quiet conversation. And despite the nagging curiosity that dragged her here, the continued insistence by Vereesa that she did not know her, or least as anything but an enemy, Jaina does not know what to say to her.
So instead, she offers, “I can go, and return after a time to allow you your privacy.”
Sylvanas nearly drops the letter. She takes a step toward her. She catches herself and does not take a second. She reaches out a bare and empty hand to Jaina, then drops it to her side immediately upon realizing what she’s done.
“No. No,” she says, trying to make the words come out not as a plea, but anything else. “A while for you is longer for me. I would—I would rather be as prompt as possible, you understand. I have my penance to work on, still more souls to guide. I don’t have time to wait around for you to return here.”
It is a poor excuse, and they both know it. They know it in the silence between the ask Sylvanas isn’t actually asking and the reply Jaina struggles to give. They know it in the way Sylvanas reaches for her, a woman she does not know in any other way but an enemy, and apparent friend to her younger sister and her owl warden, because she and her letter and her excuses for delivering it are the only reason she’s had any contact with something remotely like herself in a long, long time.
Jaina is living and breathing and human and annoyed, but curious. She is not undead and newly made whole of soul again, though she supposes that’s not so new anymore. She knows, though, that she cannot possibly understand what it is Sylvanas is thinking as she reaches for her. But still, she reaches.
Jaina does not leave. “I will wait then.”
Where she will wait is the question, really, and she sees Sylvanas ask it of herself too as she looks back toward her camp. Still, she gestures for Jaina to follow her.
It is a strange time she lives in, Jaina thinks, as she does.
And this is how she ends up seated on a stool of chipped rock, across the dying fire from where Sylvanas sits on her bed roll, reading her letter.
Sylvanas is undead and does not need a bed or a stool or a fire. Her owl warden is a spirit of nature and needs no comforts as well. Yet Sylvanas has made them, and taken the time to make them. She reads and sits cross-legged like a child. Jaina’s eyes pick at her leathers still, finding more wear and tear as she reads, counting the patches and stitches. It irks her. For some reason, of all the things, the state of her clothes bothers Jaina the most.
She’s never seen Sylvanas in anything other than fine armor, meant to intimidate as much as it was to impress. And while she still has fine armor, stacked neatly by the fire in her rest, Jaina can see that too is worn.
“Do you want new things?” Jaina eventually asks. She can’t stand the silence any longer, though from the rustling of the second of four pages, she knows Sylvanas isn’t done reading.
Sylvanas looks up. Her blue eyes dart from Jaina to her armor and herself. To the contrast of warm grey dust and cool grey skin. The mended rips and tears of her leathers match the similar state of her skin. Scars abound as little pale points and lines, streaking across her like stars in the night sky. Just barely visible at the tip of her sternum, beneath the dark leather, a gnarled and twisting point belies the deep scar where Frostmourne rent her and stole her soul, for the first time.
Sylvanas seems disturbed by the question, or perhaps by her own appearance. Maybe both. “I have done the best I could to maintain what I was given.”
“I didn’t mean to criticize,” Jaina tells her immediately, because this is the line she must draw and draw right away, regardless of how many cities this woman may have burned, or under whose influence she burned them. “It’s just—well, with Vereesa’s help, I’m sure, we could get you new things.”
“She has not mentioned this in her letter thus far,” Sylvanas says, holding up the paper as if it were the armor she so desperately seems to want to hide within now.
“She has not seen you,” Jaina tells her.
And I do not know you, she tells herself.
Jaina does not know her, but she knows the scars that form the map of the stars that make up her skin. She knows which is Frostmourne, which is the line under her eye from Saurfang’s ax at the Mak’gora. She knows there’s another from an ice lance she’s thrown, yes there, near her left elbow where there was a gap in her old skull armor.
She can feel that Sylvanas wants to shrink under her gaze, to disappear. But she does not. She sits up a little, chest out, daring Jaina to say something else.
“Then I’ll draft a list in my reply, and trust that you’ll explain the reasoning behind it,” Sylvanas offers in challenge.
“I will.”
Dori’thur, thankfully, chooses this time to swoop down and alight herself onto the top of Sylvanas’ lean-to, rather than leave them to simmer in silence again.
The owl looks between them, then at the paper in Sylvanas’ hands. Sylvanas, having gone back to reading, simply says, “Not for you, owl.”
“Dori’thur,” Jaina reminds.
“Not for you, Dori’thur. What an odd name,” Sylvanas notes, but says nothing else.
“Does she leave you to report to Tyrande?” Jaina wonders, watching both the owl and her charge now.
“That would require her to stop watching me, so no. I do not know how or if Tyrande knows what she sees. Frankly, it matters little to me. I have said that I will do what was asked of me. I do not need a babysitter to ensure that I do,” Sylvanas tells her.
Though Jaina catches something in the middle of her words. A brief dashing of blue eyes. Another little smirk, elven and wry and lopsided in such a way that’s distinctly Windrunner. She wonders who was the first to hold it. Alleria? Their mother or father? Or a Windrunner before them? An elf so ancient Jaina struggles with the numbers.
All she knows is that Sylvanas seems to enjoy the company of her warden, in a way. And that her little secret smile is something Jaina never thought she’d see on that face.
Objectively, dead and haunted and guilty as she is, she’s beautiful still. All the Windrunners are, after all.
Sylvanas is looking up at her again, expecting Jaina to challenge that notion. She’s probably expecting her to question this camp, this fire, these small comforts. The time she takes to mend her ragged clothes. The rest she dares to seek from time to time, though there are no days or nights here in the Maw to track it by.
Jaina clears her throat. “How goes it then, your work?” she asks, and nearly immediately regrets it for how silly that sounds.
How goes it, rounding up the souls you doomed to an eternity of torture? How goes it, making up for decisions that were not entirely yours, but still part and parcel wishes of your own? How goes it, living in the prison of your own failures, alone save for an owl that does nothing but stare at you?
There is a justice in this, yes. Jaina wants to sink into that and never leave. It is easier to feel like this is justice in action she’s seeing. The tedium and wear of it all are things Sylvanas deserves to endure. She deserves worse, depending on who is asking.
But the woman in front of her looks tired. She is as worn as her clothing, body as stiff and rigid as her defensive words.
Jaina will not deny her the comfort a fire and a rest might bring, now and then, though she doesn’t understand why Sylvanas seeks them. Either way, demanding she go without is a cruelty beyond necessity.
“It goes,” Sylvanas answers. “There are still many more for me to find. Torghast alone will take countless more visits to empty. The Beast Warrens are a maze I’ve still yet to properly map and account for, among other such haunts in this hellish place.”
She does not say more. She reads. Jaina watches. Dori’thur too. Sylvanas sneaks a glance at her every now and then, blue eyes flitting fast over the edge of the parchment, then back below it.
Jaina waits, as she said she would.
Sylvanas Windrunner is a stranger to her, but invited her to what home she had here all the same.
“I miss her,” Vereesa had told her, before she left. “I thought the sister I knew was gone, but I know now that she’s still herself, or is now, at least. I had mourned her, Jaina. I had mourned her for years, but now I can say that I miss her. She’s not gone, she’s just not here. And I don’t know when she’ll be back. You can’t blame me for trying.”
Jaina didn’t blame her.
Flipping to page three of Vereesa’s loopy handwriting, Sylvanas says, “I must look a sight to you, for you to say something about the state of my gear.”
Jaina corrects herself. She does not know Sylvanas, but she knew one thing about her, well, about who she once was. She was notoriously vain, and though Vereesa claimed this was exaggerated, she was known to repeatedly tell a story about how Sylvanas had screamed at her once for getting mud on her dress right as she was headed out the door for a Ranger ball, like she thought it was the funniest thing in the world.
And Jaina has just come here to her prison, the first other person she’s seen in gods know how long, handed her a letter, and told she looked a mess.
“It just seems to have been some time, that’s all,” Jaina assures her.
Sylvanas huffs a laugh she hides behind parchment, just like the odd blue of her eyes. Jaina struggles to replace it with the red of her memories.
“If there’s anything else you want, such that I could carry with me through a portal, then ask it,” Jaina offers, perhaps out of guilt.
Perhaps out of curiosity again, for what this woman might ask for. What comforts she might crave.
Sylvanas eyes her at this statement. It seems this is the first time she really takes Jaina in, perhaps to assess her intentions, or perhaps to assess how much she can carry. Jaina isn’t sure. But she knows she now feels like that sabercat in the cage. She wonders if Sylvanas still thinks she has her teeth.
She thinks, perhaps, that she doesn’t want the judgment of a virtually immortal and beautiful elf. Undead though she is, scarred and worn, she thinks Sylvanas might have plenty of criticisms to offer over her messy braid, the prudish nature and drab colors of her Kul Tiran garb, or the crows feat that have begun to claw in earnest at the dull blue of Jaina’s eyes, which only glow when she shows her real teeth.
Instead of worrying about that, Jaina wonders what she might ask for, if she were to spend potential centuries in hell doing penance. Something to pass the time. Playing cards, perhaps? Though Solitaire would get old quickly, and Dori’thur doesn’t look like she’d be much competition at Hearthstone. An instrument to play? Surely those nimble fingers of Sylvanas’ would be clever on a lute or lyre or something elven and haughty and old. Jaina had never learned to play anything with proficiency in all of her thirty-eight years of life, but might come out of such a situation fairly talented at the fiddle or flute. Her brothers would be impressed, surely.
But what would Sylvanas do, to pass the time, in her idle moments? Would she fletch arrows for game that didn’t exist, and flesh she didn’t need to eat, enemies already defeated? Would she sharpen the shortsword Jaina could see resting in its scabbard beside the fire on a whetstone until it was honed and wicked, only to have nothing to plunge it into?
Would Jaina ever be able to consider anything but war-like interests for her, even as she saw Sylvanas considering her from her bedroll, shoulders bare, hair loose, clearly not ready for any sort of battle?
“Paper,” she answers. “Ink and a few quills too, if you’d be so generous.”
Paper was not anywhere close to the answer Jaina thought she’d give.
Sylvanas holds the letter up again as her armor, her shield, her weapon. “Vereesa has asked me to reply, for us to continue to correspond. I wish to write her back.”
“Right, that’s easy enough,” Jaina agrees.
“What was that hesitation? Afraid I’ll draw up plans for world domination upon my eventual return? I’m not interested, truly. Believe me, Proudmoore, it’s not worth it,” Sylvanas assures her.
There is mischief in those secret smiles. A spark in glowing blue eyes that dares Jaina to challenge it, but in the way a child challenges her friend to a foot race. A craving for competition, maybe, in any form, or companionship on the barest of levels.
“Jaina,” she corrects her. “If I am to continue to deliver said letters, as it were, you might as well call me Jaina. And I didn’t think you had your sights set so lofty, but thanks for clarifying.”
Sylvanas nods to this. “So many names have I earned today. Though I’ll still call Dori’thur ‘owl’. Osa is the Thalassian word. It has more punch, right, osa?”
Dori’thur cocks her head just slightly at the term, then slowly blinks her large eyes.
“Very astute, thank you for adding so much to the conversation, as always,” Sylvanas sighs.
Jaina supposes that she too, would talk to a silent owl, if she were left alone for so long. She would probably go insane long before her clothes began to wear out, if it were her.
“Either way, I’ll continue to deliver your letters,” Jaina assures her. “I hadn’t realized this was a more than once sort of favor I’m doing, but I suppose I should have.”
“I’d say Vereesa is lucky to befriend such a powerful mage and be able to make such inane requests of her, but she always did like mages,” Sylvanas notes, going back to reading and flipping to the final page of Vereesa’s letter.
This time, though, the smile stays on her face too long to be a secret. Long enough for Jaina to watch her get lost in a memory, maybe two, and still come out smiling.
Smiling at her sister, a fondness beyond ages and time and dimensions and death—and the reason, perhaps, why Vereesa felt compelled to write to her, and send her friend to check on her.
“Tea,” Sylvanas mutters, eyes still glued to the parchment.
“Padron?”
“Bring tea when you come back,” Sylvanas tells her.
“What kind do you like?” Jaina asks, uncertain. She didn’t think undead drank.
Even if they did, she wouldn’t know the answer. Vereesa likes chamomile, sometimes. She doesn’t really drink tea. Alleria, well, Jaina has never seen Alleria drink anything but alcohol and would be afraid to ask if had any other preferences for more sober sorts of beverages.
“Whatever kind you like. It’s not for me,” Sylvanas says.
“Are you telling me that you’d like me to bring tea for myself when I come back?” Jaina asks, needing desperately for something about this request to be clear to her.
Sylvanas laughs her little laugh. It sounds like it’s been sanded down, worn like the caged sabercat’s teeth, like tattered leathers.
“I suppose I am. I don’t want to be a bad host, but I’m afraid all I have to offer here are rocks and broken war machines and wandering souls. None of these are fit to drink, or to give to company.”
Company. Jaina hadn’t expected to be company to her. She hadn’t expected the hidden smiles and weary laughs and how Sylvanas had tried to cover the desperation in the way she reached out after her. She hadn’t expected to find her nestled in a little camp, forging a mockery of a life that had long been stolen from her and the comforts of living she no longer needed, but clearly still craved.
Jaina isn’t sure. She doesn’t know anymore. She didn’t, even as she first cast the portal spell this morning that would take her to the Maw. She was curious. She still is.
But company, she supposes, is a thing she can try to be.
#sylvaina#sylvanas windrunner#jaina proudmoore#fanfic#count me surprised to be this intrigued by a post-shadowlands premise but ok here we go
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who is that little gay boy in ur pfp because I love him
anon i am kissing you square on the mouth
he is my most favouritest sopping wet cat Yang Ze played by Ji Chen in L.O.R.D Critical World (2019) - an absolute nonsense (affectionate) chinese fantasy series that I truly could not explain if I tried and tend to just introduce to people by watching this clip cos that pretty much sets the tone
He's Hot! He's Gay! He's Traumatised!
He's a prince in hiding leading a rebel organisation and trying to avenge the deaths of his parents and save his country (which sometimes puts him at odds with the main character he's in love friends with) and he's handling all of that responsibility and conflict of interest Really Well™
he's pretty much always having the absolute worst time and spends a full half of the scenes he's in tearing up or full blown sobbing his eyes out
literally the only times he's happy is when he's with his boyfriend bestie who he swears brotherhood with whilst naked in a pool which they broke into and then nearly get caught in
also when his boyfriend bestie asks him to buy him dinner he responds by doing this - normal heterosexual behaviour
also he's just straight up beautiful and the only man in this drama who didn't have to wear a wig
he is fully the most compelling character in the show and I promise i'm not just saying that cos i'm biased
in conclusion, i love him
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Shadowhunter Promptlet: The Piano
A young Alec, overwhelmed by everything Maryse and Robert have dropped himself into his lap, runs away from the Institute- just for a few hours- to see what it would be like to be a mundane child. To see what it would be like to live with no responsibility, without parents who leave their bruises on his skin.
Somehow, Alec accidentally finds himself in a piano lesson with a bunch of other children and he discovers music.
Having learned the basics, Alec knows better than to ever reveal it to anyone at the Institute. But, over the years, he sneaks away a few careful hours at a time. He finds public pianos in the parks or he slips into unlocked middle schools, or, later, unlocked high schools or colleges, blending in and sneaking into their practice rooms to bring the music in his head to life.
Alec never tells anyone, not even Jace, about his escape. Jace has always been different and just because it's okay for him to play music, doesn't mean it's okay for Alec.
One day, Magnus and Alec are visiting one of Magnus' warlock friends and Alec, with permission, goes to explore a few nearby rooms while Magnus and his friend catch up. He doesn't dare even sit down on the bench when he finds the piano, but he knows that this room is too far for them to hear, so he plays.
Magnus walks in without Alec noticing at first, but when Alec catches movement out of the corner of his eye and turns, he's frozen.
[Teenage HOTI-Alec with his mundane accidental-piano-friends below the cut]
Imagine a fifteen-year old Alexander Lightwood, overwhelmed from his recent installation as Acting Head, sneaking into the local high school band room to practice on their piano. Imagine Alec meeting this group of kids who basically adopt him and keep claiming him as their brother/visiting cousin/best friend from another high school whenever anyone else pops into the practice room and asks who this random kid is who definitely doesn't go here.
The tattoos and leather jacket make Alec incredibly popular with the teen girls going after the bad boy and Ryan, Haley, and Alison find Alec's total and utter obliviousness to them absolutely hilarious.
But, the little trio also sees his constant injuries and how exhausted he is all the time and one day Haley kind of snaps and pulls a fuzzy blanket out of her backpack and demands Alec take a nap while she practices Braham's lullaby.
(Alec acquiesces and the trio subtly collates a list of the songs that Alec will sleep through while they play. A few times here and there Alec will creep into the practice room, shadows both in and under his eyes, and he won't even try to put fingers to piano- just tentatively pulls out the blanket from Haley's backpack that is now undeniably his and curls up in the corner to sleep fitfully while Ryan guards the door.)
They see how lonely he looks sometimes, how burdened, and the trio drags him out for milkshakes and tell horrible jokes until Alec truly laughs - looking honestly surprised that that sound even came out of his mouth.
And Ryan doesn't make a big deal of it, but he sees how Alec keeps stroking his Haley's blanket between his fingers, enjoying the softness. The next day, Ryan starts keeping a large black hoodie he found made out of the softest material he's ever felt in his tuba case, waiting for the next time they walk into what has become their practice room after school to find Alec lurking in the corner.
(Ten years later, Alec still wears that sweater whenever he needs some extra comfort.)
The night after the wedding-that-wasn't and before Malec's first date, Alec climbs up the fire escape to the 34th floor of and apartment building in Queens and knocks on Haley's window. He then proceeds to have a Gay Panic on her and Alison's couch before they calm him down and convince him to go woo his man.
A year after that, Alec is a groomsman at Ryan’s wedding and Ryan is suddenly stuck trying to explain to his wife why they have a lovely package of custom daggers as a wedding present.
A few months after Magnus finds Alec hardly daring to touch his friend's piano, Haley, Ryan, and Alison are invited to the loft for dinner. Magnus can barely contain the joy and love in his heart as Alec and the trio recount the stories of their meeting and the blatant shenanigans they got up to over the years. Yet, Magnus' heart is somehow even more full as he watches the four friends troop over to the newly installed piano in Alec and Magnus' living room, trading off playing each other's favorite songs until long into the night.
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nothing annoys me more than people acting like mike doesnt care about eleven at all. he sat on his supercomm waiting for her every day for nearly a year when everyone was so sure she had died, he was so distressed he thought he was losing his fucking mind. he is genuinely so terrified of losing her and its not because hes scared of losing something he can point to as some sort of proof that hes not gay.
be so for real rn guys.
he does love her, but hes pointedly not in love with her.
mike and elevens relationship is so important to me because of how truly and deeply they care for eachother. it just gets muddy and complicated when they (mike really since el has little knowledge of gender roles + he instigated their romantic relationship) try to place labels on it to justify it.
like think about it.
mike has 2 sisters, but hes not particularly close to either of them or even his mom. he also has never had any female friends until eleven showed up, plus neither him or any of his friends have ever had a meaningful crush on a girl before.
its entirely plausible to me that he doesn't know what strong Platonic feelings towards a girl are supposed to feel like, or how it would be different from romantic feelings.
so when he does feel that, coupled with everyone in his life who knows about el instisting that he likes her- he's convinced himself that he does. mikes not great at understanding other peoples feelings but he's always been good at communicating his own, except for this very specific feeling with el.
his conflict with max in season 2 is interesting for a lot of reasons but i think it kind of lends to this explanation. we know mike doesn't actuallt hate her, he laughs at the note she leaves dustin & lucas, he blatantly tells her he doesnt hate her (not something he would lie about), he bonds with her while shes skating around him, and he makes sure shes okay & helps her up when she falls. however, he doesnt want her in his party because shes "annoying" ???
i personally think season 2 was the beginning of mike developing and realizing feelings for will he didnt know were there. but hes also dealing with the loss of el entirely on his own, and at this point hes convinced the relationship they have is romantic. in his eyes hes lost the love of his life, his hero who saved both him and his town from certain doom.
and then some random girl with a loud personality shows up and sweeps two of his friends off their feet and he kinda likes her... the same way he liked eleven when they first met. but its clearly different from how lucas and dustin seem to like her, and that confuses him. he has so much to think ab this season already and he cant escape this max thing because dustin and lucas drag her into everything & she just keeps getting closer and closer to everyone else in the party.
mike has been repeatedly shown to us to be a very accepting and friendly kid. hes a bit of a smart ass and incredibly sarcastic, sure. but he's the one that reached out to will in kindergarten, hes the one who invited some scary girl from the woods to sleep in his basement, and its implied he was the first to reach out to dustin and lucas as well. its gotta mean something that the only person he tries to exclude is max.
he was also so concerned about her replacing els spot in the party, which was not an issue he had with el taking up a magical role (something he associated with will) the season before. maybe its because shes a girl, or maybe its because she made him realize his feelings for el werent so special or even that different from how he felt about his friends like lucas and dustin.
all of that is entirely my opinion though so take it for what you will.
people often draw paralells to nancy not being able to say she loves steve in season 2 to mike not being able to say it to el in seasons 3 & 4. a lot of people point to trauma and behaviors learnt from their parents to explain this, which i think is a fair interpretation.
however, i think its not the only reason. in season 2 when this conflict happens with nancy and steve, its because she genuinely doesnt love him, at least not anymore. something we see play out throughout the season until she eventually ends up with jonathan.
i think its important to note that we never see nancy struggle to say she loves jonathan.. like ever while theyre together.
mike does however say that he cares, and expresses over and over that eleven is his hero. which we know eleven doesnt appreciate because she just wants to feel loved and normal. its interesting to me too that the "superhero" ideation he has of el isnt even exclusive to her, but is actually paralleled to something hes said to almost all of his closest friends.
mike saying dustins double jointed elbows are like a "super power" in season 1 and ofc him calling will a "super spy" in season 2. this is a repeated behavior. plus in season 2 a character mike looks up to, bob newby, actively calls himself a "super hero" constantly.
idk i'm just rambling at this point but basically platonic elmike is everything to me and i hate (its a strong word ik but i mean it) ppl who refuse to acknowledge their relationship just for the sake of byler.
surprise!! they can co-exist besties 🥳
also me fighting for platonic madwheeler rep because this fandom is still somehow lacking, wth guys???
#they're besties your honor#this is the longest thing ive ever posted#sorry i had a lot to say#i hope this made sense#stranger things#mike wheeler#elmike#byler
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