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tomtefairytaleblog · 1 month

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Diamonds, Toads, and Dark Magical Girls

According to Bill Ellis in "The Fairy-Telling Craft of Princess Tutu: Meta-Commentary and the Folkloresque," the fairy tale of Cinderella can be seen as one of the earliest examples of the transformation sequences/henshin seen in magical girl anime, particularly in how the title character is given items that help her achieve a goal, usually given to her by a magical being (her mother's spirit in a tree, a fairy godmother, etc.).

Thinking again about the connection between magical girls and fairy tales--even if they aren't as meta as Tutu, many magical girls do use imagery and ideas from European fairy tales (Sailor Moon alone has references to Hans Christian Andersen and Charles Perrault)--I wondered what other character types from the genre may have some precedent in fairy tales. Then I started thinking about the Dark Magical Girl character.

Not every magical girl story has a Dark Magical Girl, but they do crop up in a lot of works. To name a few, there's Fate Testarossa from Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha, Homura Akemi from Puella Magi Madoka Magica, Rue/Kraehe from Princess Tutu, and countless others that would be too numerous to name. In general they tend to be more cynical, darker counterparts to the main protagonists, who tend to come from relatively more stable environments. Whatever magic they possess also may be more sinister, at least initially.

Tying in somewhat to the story of Cinderella is the Aarne-Thompson-Uther Index fairy tale type "The Kind and Unkind Girls" (ATU 480). Many of the stories of this type involve a rivalry between two stepsisters, one being favored by the stepmother due to being the latter's biological daughter. The general idea in most versions of the tale is that both girls encounter a magical being at separate points in time. The kind girl helps the magical being in some way, at which point the magical being gives her a magical ability or magical presents. Meanwhile, the unkind girl refuses to help the magical being and is cursed in some fashion, or, worse, killed. The kind girl meanwhile usually ends up marrying a prince, or a similar character. One of the more popular versions of this story, "Diamonds and Toads," has the kind girl gain the ability to have a jewel or flower fall from her mouth when she speaks, while the unkind girl is cursed to have toads and snakes fall from hers. And while the kind girl does marry a prince, the unkind one is kicked out of her house and dies alone in the woods. (Insert something about Revolutionary Girl Utena's comment about how a girl who cannot become a princess is doomed to be a witch.)

Typically in these fairy tales, the unkind girl is never shown to be a real threat to the kind one; the ultimate threat is the stepmother, who uses her daughter as a means to an end. In contrast, Dark Magical Girls tend to have, well, magic that helps them attack the magical girl protagonist. In this regard, they're the Heavy in the plot, while the witch/mother-like figure/real enemy waits in the background (as is the case in a lot of magical girl shows--the Raven and Rue, Precia and Fate, Fine and Chris in Symphogear etc.). Sometimes the Dark Magical Girl will be a major threat, though--like the Princess of Disaster in Pretear (who is loosely-inspired by the Evil Queen in Snow White).

In The Uses of Enchantment: The Meaning and Importance of Fairy Tales (1976), Bruno Bettelheim argues that the stepmother as a character is a way for children to process the negative traits of their own mothers, while still idealizing the good qualities of them. With that in mind, the unkind sister and the Dark Magical Girl can be viewed as a way of processing/externalizing the negative traits that a girl can have, being cruel, rebellious, and uncaring. They also embody their fears, too--the fear of being alone, rejected, and doomed to fail.

Of course, nowadays, Dark Magical Girls have a tendency to be redeemed and reconcile with/befriend the main magical girl, something the kind and unkind girls never seem to do in the fairy tales. Maybe it's just emblematic of society deciding that killing a girl off for being a little rude is a bit unfair. She's just a kid trying to find her place in the world, too, after all.

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lunamond · 2 months

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The argument that the switch-up between Tamlin and Rhysand as love interests was SJM making a clever commentary on the inherently problematic nature of the Beauty and the Beast tale is actually really annoying to me.

I'm absolutely not above being critical of this story.

However, just because there are problematic aspects in the foundational version of this story doesn’t mean that modern iterations automatically possess these as well.

So let's look at how modern retellings deal with the most commonly criticised element of the story: the kidnapping.

For me personally, the most important thing to look at when judging how "problematic" the kidnapping in any given Beauty and the Beast story is, is to look at what the actual power dynamics at play are.

Most of these stories tend to feature some inherent power imbalance between the Beauty and the Beast characters. However, most retellings also feature a curse/curser who puts pressure on the Beast to kidnap Beauty in the first place. This means there is always some kind of higher power/authority who holds significant power over the Beast as well.

In the og Fairytale version, we have a scorned Fae/Witch who curses the Beast. The stakes for the Beast are to find a woman, make her fall in love with him, or stay a Beast forever.

How much this gives the Beast a pass for the crime of kidnapping is, of course, sth each person has to decide for themself.

However, most modern retellings tend to significantly increase the severity of the conditions and consequences of said curse, often times putting many lives outside of the Beast's own at stake.

This increase in stakes, at least for me, significantly impacts how much I condemn the actions of the Beast character.

We see this in the Disney version were all the people living and working in the castle were turned into animate objects and risk turning inanimate once the time-limit for the curse runs out, which is essentially a child friendly way of saying that they will all die.

In the YA novel Cruel Beauty (which I already compared to Acotar in an older post), the Beast character is forced to take a new bride every century. Due to the specifics of the curse, the safety of an entire country is dependent on his compliance with the conditions put on him. So, despite the fact that he initially appears much more powerful than the Beauty character, they are essentially both stuck under the same curse.

The first Acotar book works the same way. Tamlin kidnaps Feyre, not because he wants to but because the conditions of the curse put not just the fate of the SC but of the entirety of Prythian at stake.

That's, of course, not to say that this isn't a violent experience for Feyre and her family. But it does mean that Tamlin isn't the instigator of this violent act, but the person responsible for the curse, aka Amarantha.

The attempt to turn this into a subversion of the BnB story by revealing Tamlin as a violent and abusive partner becomes incredibly frustrating, because most of the violent undertone present in the 1st book, that fans like to point towards as an early sign of his future abusive behaviors are not caused by Tamlin himself but by Amarantha (and her batwinged lackey).

But SJM's attempt is especially nonsensical because Feyre's new romance with Rhysand is just a worse version of BnB.

I am aware that the second book, Acomaf, is most commonly marketed as a Hades/Persephone retelling.

But here is the thing; the modern interpretation of Hades/Persephone as a romance is much more akin to the story of Beauty and the Beast than the hymn to Demeter (the og source text featuring the myth of Hades/Persephone), which as the title suggests is much more concerned with the feelings of grief and rage a mother feels in response to her daughter's abduction than anything else.

So, let's judge Feysand's story with the same standards we just used for other modern BnB retellings.

Immediately, we run into the issue that Rhysand doesn't have a higher power above him forcing him to kidnap Feyre (unless you want to count the mating bond, but that is clearly meant to be seen as a positive so that doesn't really work, Amarantha doesn't count either).

However, it gets worse.

He is the one who forces the bargain on Feyre, ensuring she has to spend 1 week in the NC for the rest of her life. When he later kidnaps her, he is fulfilling the curse he himself put on her.

In this version, the Beast character, Rhysand, is not the cursed but the curser. So he is at once the kidnapper AND the higher power enforcing the curse/the cause for the kidnapping.

In a direct comparison between the way Tamlin and Rhysand each fullfill the Beast role, it becomes pretty apparent how utterly SJM's supposed criticism of the BnB story has failed; Tamlin kidnaps Feyre because he is forced to, Rhysand does because he WANTS to.

#anti feysand #anti acomaf #anti rhysand #anti sjm #acotar #feyre archeron #pro tamlin

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prince-kallisto · 24 days

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Idia’s video explaining how to defeat the “evil, terrifying Demon King” had me thinking. Idia’s video greatly mischaracterizes Malleus, and I’ve been reading over some criticisms of his plan being all to similar to the fate of Meleanor with the Silver Owls. And as I was thinking it over, the parallels between Idia and Malleus really striked me in this recent update. (Translation credits to GasMask💖🐦‍⬛)

Throughout the story, we can see how Idia’s curse and family history has affected him greatly. Viewing himself as a monster, someone who is ‘unnatural’ compared to his peers and subject to gossip. The “monster in some tragic tale.” His two lines of getting driven out of town and being poked by a stick reminded me so much of Lilia and Malleus.

Lilia was constantly being driven out of towns and cities after the war, as Fae were viewed as monsters- even though Lilia was just trying to find a way to hatch an egg and meant no harm to anybody. And Malleus was quite literally poked, as in the first Halloween event, the “Draconia Challenge” had the Magicam Monsters poke, touch, and grab Malleus without his consent purely for a ridiculous test of courage. (Translation credits to Otome Ayui💖🐦‍⬛)

And Idia’s fretting over all the potential rumors about him is what actually happens to Malleus- where if you look at him wrong, or even get too close to him, you’ll get cursed and eaten- a similar way to Idia imagining rumors where he’d pass on his bad luck and family curse. Although I think this part of their parallels is fascinating to me, as most of it from Idia is from his own anxiety and self-esteem, but Malleus it is all reality.

However, I think Book 6 and 7 is truly the parts in the main game where a deliberate connection is made- and I will go over 3 specific instances. This first one was the one that truly caught my attention, because the River Lethe is a system that erases the memory and data of the Shroud family. Their existence is known in some lore, but it’s very little, and most of their history is erased from the rest of the world. They are urban legends at best, and Idia resigns himself to being forgotten by all his classmates, seeing no point in making friends when he will be erased in the end.

Several chapters later, we have a scene of Malleus finding comfort in abandoned buildings, as he finds them a “pleasant reminder we’re not the only ones history has left behind.” Lilia is said to be seen in some of NRC’s history books, but so little is know about Meleanor and Levan, the fate of Wildrose Castle, the war, everything. It was all forgotten so easily as human generations went by, but many of the Fae from that time period are still alive and remember it all. Pretty much all of his classmates don’t really understand Fae, creating repeated misunderstandings and conflict between them. But Malleus finds himself left behind in history the same way Idia does. Both of their families are “meant” to be lost in time through some twisted hand of fate. I also find it EXTREMELY relevant of how long back the Shroud family goes- all the way back to the Age of the Gods, and where mages were known as witches and wizards. I think there is a very high possibility of the Draconia’s and the Shroud’s to be connected from all the way back then.

This one is a bit more of a minor case, but it’s similar to the one above. Idia’s fate was sealed the moment he was born- or even before that, as his mother and father would know that he would inherit the Shroud’s curse, Unique Magic, and Watchman title. Not only does it ring similar to how Malleus was dehumanized by the rest of the world *while he was still an egg,* but it reminds me of the accidental curse Meleanor put on Malleus. He would be a blessing to the Fae, but a curse on the humans…Idia’s role of Watchman is technically a “blessing” because without the continuation of the Shroud family, the phantoms would be unleashed on the entire world- but his overall fate is meant to be a curse nonetheless (Translation credits to Otome Ayui💖🐦‍⬛)

And finally, I found the reoccurring theme of fighting for your own dream in Book 6 to be very relevant to the plight in Book 7. At first, the groups in Book 6 are rushing to defeat and knock the sense into Idia and Ortho, like they’re just final bosses. But as they get closer and closer to the Underworld, they begin to stop and empathize with them, beginning to figure out that Idia and Ortho are trying to escape their nightmarish reality to fulfill their own dreams- not matter how selfish it may be. Both sides have entirely valid reasons to fight for their own wishes, but this moment of empathy felt very important.

Book 7 centers around Malleus putting everyone in a “world without sorrow,” in dreams where he *thinks* is their ideal world, even though many of the characters in the present have realized their own strengths and don’t need to rely on their drama anymore (e.g Epel being distraught at his dream, since he has fully accepted his role as being the ‘Poison Apple,’ growing out of his more stereotypical ideals of strengths). However, this is also about Malleus wanting to keep the ones he loves close to him, not wanting to be abandoned again- even if it means stopping time and keeping the entire world in an eternal sleep. His power is on a very similar scale of Idia and Ortho, who planned to reset the entire world and cover it with blot and phantoms- where the Shrouds could be on top of the world since their curse incinerates blot. Even the language used is VERY similar, with being reborn, becoming the protagonist…

So…all in all, I think it’s very fascinating that Idia’s plan and the way he speaks about Malleus is ironically similar to the way he himself fears others talking about him. Reduced to some evil, cursed monster, a final boss to be defeated and nothing more. I have read some other analysis’ (although this is my Silidia brain talking too BSXJD) where Idia is akin to Prince Philip in Sleeping Beauty, the prince who slays Maleficent with the Sword of Truth. The Sword is represented by Silver, where in the current update, STYX is directly working with and examining Silver’s Unique Magic as essentially a secret weapon to defeat Malleus. But I think about Yana’s line in an interview, where she wonders about the viewpoints of the items in fairytales- like the apple wouldn’t WANT to become a poisonous apple. And Silver wouldn’t want to be the “sword” that “defeats” Malleus- his older brother.

Even though it is upsetting that Idia so badly mischaracterizes Malleus, I think it is exactly the point. It is not only a reflection of Idia himself, but will lead to the subversion of Malleus’ “defeat.” History keeps repeating itself through Maleficent and Meleanor, but I think this is the time where amends can be made. Idia and Malleus have the very strong capability of seeing each eye-to-eye, as their plights are very similar. It feels like it boils down to the desire of being recognized and connecting not only with their peers, but also with family- especially in Malleus’ case where he, Silver, and Lilia had yet to truly acknowledge each other as family. Malleus doesn’t, or rather, shouldn’t be treated as the evil final boss, or be defeated solely through technology and brute force the way his mother was.

Showing Lilia’s dream sequence and Silver’s battle with himself in Book 7 is reemphasizing the point of family and connection, and how all of them need to talk it out and recognize each other as a true family. But of course, we are the viewers of the story. The story sets up the value of family and talking it out, but then it is purposefully backtracking as more and more NRC students band together. The other characters have no idea of all this backstory and connection, so everything is far more two-dimensional and they are making their judgements based on what Malleus has done to them. It is a continuous style of retribution.

But this is where a moment of empathy like in Book 6 is need. To stop and think if what they’re doing is right, and what Malleus truly needs in his moment of suffering and isolation. He IS in an Overblot state, so a battle is inevitable, but…I think it is what STYX said. We can’t just beat him down through brute force- someone has to bring him out of his form willingly. I find the clash of ideals and viewpoints of these characters to be incredibly well written, and as Yana said, they’re aren’t exactly traditional hero’s of fairytales. And I’m hoping that if Idia and Malleus’ parallels are as intentional as I think they are, I’m hoping that in the end there is more of a mutual understanding between each other and a breaking of a long cycle.

Edit: forgot to mention it, but this is not to say that Malleus hasn’t done anything wrong to his classmates. I think HE DOES need some form of confrontation- which is where Ace may play a role in since he’s repeatedly not been afraid to call others out, even Malleus. Malleus has a lot to learn and grow from, just like everyone else in the story. And I wonder even though the Draconia’s and Shroud’s are opposites at their surface, I hope there can be a reconciliation and mutual relationship between technology and magic in the future!

m(_ _)m Hm I hope this generally made sense lol, I’m not very good at explaining what I mean. I’m really excited to see where this is all going 👀👀👀👀🐦‍⬛

Also a huge thank you to @/YuuRei20, for their compilation of Malleus and Idia facts 😭💖💖💖💖💖

(Also, back to my brief mention of the Shrouds and Draconia’s being tied back far in the past, I’m still stuck on my theory about what may have happened between STYX and Levan 👉👈)

#this entire post is me struggling to fit in all my screenshots with mobile photo limit Zndjjcf #twisted wonderland #twst #twst analysis #twst theory #twst idia shroud #twst idia #twst malleus draconia #twst malleus #twst spoilers #twst book 7 spoilers #twst jp spoilers #twst shroud family #twst Draconia family #long post #kallistopost

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thought--bubble · 8 months

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Aemond X (Baratheon! Reader)

In Need Of an Heir Part 1

Warnings Below

Word Count: 2,289

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Warnings: nothing yet, really. Mentions of war, mention of murder, arraigned marriage. Brief mention of possible noncon.

He picked you. Somehow, a prince, an actual prince, came in and chose to marry you. The excitement of that scenario was all too short lived with the arrival of another prince.

When Prince Lucerys entered the hall, you barely registered what he was saying, still riding out the high of being chosen to be a princess. That high quickly turned to dread as you watched the handsome prince turn into a vengeful and violent man. Your stomach dropped as he asked your father to take his leave without sparing you a second glance on his way out. The fairy-tale Princes you had read about as a girl he was not.

That would be the last time you would see him for quite a while. Which was preferable to you since he murdered his own nephew immediately after leaving. A fact that left you devastated. You couldn't possibly still marry this maniac, This kinslayer with a god complex. You thought surely your father would cancel the betrothal or at least alter it so you would marry the less psychotic Prince Daeron instead.

This murder plunged the realm into war, delaying the marriage plans much to your relief. You tried to reason with your parents. Saying you couldn't marry a crazed violent kinslayer. That your children would be cursed or he might kill you if you say or do the wrong thing. Your mother shared this concern, but your father was steadfast in his belief that this would elevate his house's standing in the realm, and you would do your duty and marry as you were told.

Months into the war, your father receives news that angers him so much that his yelling and screaming can be heard throughout the castle. Prince Aemond, your betrothed, had married. A strong bastard witch, and to top it all off, she was pregnant. Your father sent ravens to Harenhal that went unanswered. Your father took this as the greatest sign of disrespect.

This was welcome news to you. The betrothal would, of course, have to be called off now. You didn't even mind the insult. Now you would be free to wed someone else. Someone who didn't terrify you. Someone who wasn't actively burning half the realm in anger.

Your father knew it was too late to pull his support for the greens. He had been fighting alongside them for months. But he would not let this disrespect go unchecked. So a plan was put in motion to get rid of the problem. An assassin was paid, and news of the pregnant witches' death spread across the realm. Much to your horror.

When you received the news, you felt sick. knowing that your father would now demand the marriage continue as planned. Thoughts of a woman being murdered to make room for a marriage you didn't even want. the poor woman who was taken as a spoil of war. What choice did she have? Did she love the prince? Did he just not want to father a bastard thus he married her after forcing himself upon her? Did they truly marry? Was she killed for no reason? She received a death sentence all because of the prince's depravity. The same Prince your father was still determined to have you marry.

The war finally came to an end. The Greens having been successful in their reclaiming of Kings Landing. You had heard the story of Daemon Targaryen trying to goad Aemond into fighting him above the gods eye. Daemon was unsuccessful in getting word to Aemond that he was even there. You felt this was another cruel joke from the gods. Trapping you, making all chances to escape your fate impossible. Aemond and Criston Cole instead fought their way back to kings landing and reclaimed the kingdom. Rhanyera was caught and sentenced to death, and Daemon was finally brought to an end when he fell to Aemonds sword when he attempted to free her.

With the news that the war was over, a collective sigh of relief was shared across the realm by everyone. Except you. There was nothing stopping the marriage now, and as a woman and daughter of a lord paramount, there was little you could do to save yourself from the fate that awaited you.

What if the Prince knew it was your father who had his first wife killed? What if he decided to punish you for it? What of the way he had taken that woman as a spoil of war? Was he depraved in the way the king was known for? Would he inflict those depravities upon you?

You again tried to reason with your father, but he would hear nothing of it, especially now that Aegons sons had perished during the war, and he was too injured to sire anymore. Aemond would one day be king and you queen, and your first born son would be king after that. All Borros could see is that his grandson would one day be king. He couldn't be bothered with your silly feminine concerns. So, less than a moons time after the war officially came to an end, you were sent on your way to Kings landing.

The trip was long but nowhere near long enough. You kept asking for breaks, saying you were getting sick from the motion of the carriage trying any excuse to delay your arrival.

That only worked for so long, your brother Royce and your septa had been sent to escort you. Royce had picked up on the fact that you were attempting to delay the inevitable and had lost his patience. He demanded that the carriage only be stopped upon his request, and he did not request it often. All too soon, you were closing in on the Red Keep.

Your septa is whispering in your ear about how you must present yourself. Proper courtesies, etc. Your brother has a look of extreme boredom on his face.

"I hope they have a meal ready for us. I am sick of eating this on the road rubbish" he muses

Your septa gives him a stern look and returns to you flattening out your hair and fussing over your dress.

"She looks fine. He picked her out of all of them, did he not? If he no longer wants her, I have no problem turning this carriage and bringing her home"

Your eyes light up. "We could just turn around now?" You say looking at your brother with a fake smile.

"Your sister may very well be queen someday." Your septa interrupts."Since King Aegon has named Prince Aemond heir, She must carry herself with the dignity of a future queen!"

"Yeah, King Kinslayer and his Baratheon Bride," your brother chuckles as your stomach plummets and your face blanches.

Your septa is taken aback. "Young lord Baratheon, you mustn't speak like that," she leans in whispering. "The Prince is not known for his forgiving manner."

Royce nods to her. " I must be losing my head. This trip was too long, " he laughs while raising his eyebrows.

"Royce, this is nothing to jest at! You very well might lose your head as will I. We should call this off and go home!" You say giving one last desperate attempt

"What a splendid idea! the Prince would love that we agreed to come, and then we do not." he looked at you like you were an imbecile.

The carriage comes to a stop, and you immediately feel a wave of nausea come over you.

"Lord Royce Baratheon and his sister Lady Y/N Baratheon!" You hear the knight call out as the door to the carriage is opened. Your brother steps out and then stands to the side, offering you his hand for your balance. And thank the 7 that he does because you are not currently steady on your feet. When you exit the carriage, the sun feels too bright, the air too hot, your legs too heavy, your dress too tight.

Your septa comes out quickly after you and all 3 of you are staring up at the dowager queen alicent.

"Welcome" she says "I apologize that the king and prince are unable to properly welcome you they are engaged in a council meeting at the moment. Come with me and I will show you to your chambers"

You let out a sigh of relief.

"When will I meet with the king and prince?" Royce asked, his voice carrying an undertone of annoyance.

"At dinner, Lord Baratheon," the dowager queen responded as prim and proper as ever.

You arrived at your chambers bid your brother and the dowager queen farewell and entered. The bedchamber was nice. A bit bigger than the one you had back home. Adorned with red and black fabrics for the curtains and bedlinens. Candles strategically placed so that when lit in the darkness of night, one would still be able to navigate around the chamber. There is a small desk and chair, and a small padded chaise sits before the large window overseeing the gardens.

You sit on the chaise and look out to the gardens. Trying to remember all the dreams you had as a young girl. The Delusions of what being a princess would be like. Maybe you could convince yourself that this new life would be as wondrous as you had imagined all of those years ago.

There is a light tap on your chamber door. It's much too light to be male, so you ask the visitor to enter. In walks a young chamber maid. Her light brown hair braided and coiled onto her head eyes downcast.

"Hello my lady, I am here to help you prepare for dinner"

"Thank you," you respond softly. "What is your name?" You had always had close relationships with the chamber maids back home. Those relationships were a comfort to you in times of high stress.

"Amber my lady" she responds timidly.

You greet her kindly and move to the unpacked chest with the dresses you brought from home.

"I haven't yet chosen a dress to wear, I am quite unsure of which one would befit an introductory dinner such as this, would you help me choose?" You hope that acts like this, where you and your chambermaid work together will help build the foundation for a comfortable relationship. You are about to be alone in the capital and desperately want to have at least one relationship that provides comfort.

"Yes my lady"

The two of you begin sorting through the dresses and Amber pulls out a sapphire blue dress. The dress is fitted at the top and flows out beautifully under the bust. The sleeves are full length but are sheer past the elbows.

"This one will be perfect. Prince Aemond does so like this color"

Your stomach drops at the mention of his name. A stark reminder of just exactly what this dinner is for.

"Do you know him well? The Prince I mean?"

"I don't know if anyone does if I'm to be honest my lady"

You feel the knot in your stomach tightening.

You are quiet for the rest of dressing your mind going a mile a minute with thoughts.

Maybe he is shy? Could a mass murderer be shy? If no one knows the real him, is there a reason he hides it? A sinister reason? A reason his lady wife might be doomed to find out?

You are pulled from your thoughts by another knock on the door. This one is louder. More self-assured. That is certainly a male knock. Would your betrothed walk you to dinner? Could that be him on the other side of the door? You make no moves toward the door. You do not call out. You just stand in place.

Amber stands looking at you and realizes that you are not going to answer the door and answers if herself.

"Good Evening, is the Lady prepared for dinner?" The voice of Royce causes a tingling sensation to go through your body. The relief causing a feeling that borders on euphoric.

"Yes, my lord"

He enters your chambers and smiles at you.

"Come, sister, I am starved!"

You laugh lightly. Royce is the type of personality that is never burdened with fear or worry. He prides himself on his ability to take things as they come and adapt accordingly.

You link your arm around him and he leads you out of your chambers.

"Do you know where we are going?"

"I was shown earlier. I am hoping my memory serves. If not, we shall wander about until we find it or someone comes looking for us. " he laughs, tapping his free hand on your arm.

"Don't be nervous. You are the daughter of a lord paramount and the sister of a future lord paramount. If he does not treat you accordingly you need just let me know ok? You may marry into house Targaryen but house Baratheon will always back you"

You look towards your brother a look of shock and relief on your face. It is very rare that your brother speaks in such a serious manner, but you are thankful for it. The ever protective brother.

"Ahh, my sense of direction serves me once again." He says loudly as you come upon to large doors with two knights standing on either side of them.

"Come," he lowers his voice. "Head high. Show no fear. You are a Baratheon, we cower to no one"

Your brother and you stand before the large doors as the knights open them and announce your arrival.

"Lord Royce Baratheon, Lady Y/N Baratheon"

You and Royce share one last glance and step through the doors.

Part 2

To be added to tag list click here

A/N: Blame my disassociation issue for this one! I had a lot of fun mapping out how to tie in all the scenes I imagined into a fun story.

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chaikachi · 11 months

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Little Red Riding Hood, The Big Bad Wolf, & The Silver Bullet

Aka I did an Oscar as The Little Prince analysis and now I wanna do one for Ruby's allusion in honour of the 10th Anniversary.

I know most if not all of us are familiar, but I'm still going to start with a summary.

Little Red is a story about a young girl in a red cloak who is sent into the woods at her mother's behest to bring baked goods to her sick grandmother. There, she meets a malicious wolf that asks her many questions, to which she answers all truthfully and without hesitation. The wolf takes this information and uses it to beat the girl to her destination where he then swallows her grandma whole and disguises himself in the woman's clothes. There he waits for the child to arrive and come closer so he can swallow her up too.

There are actually two popular versions of this story with different endings that we often look back to.

In Perrault's story, there is no happy ending. They're both eaten up, the wolf is content. The end. But in the Grimm version, there is an additional character... the Huntsman (aka the woodsman). He hears the wolf snoring after its meal and ends up cutting the beast open & saving the victims. Then, with the help of Little Red Riding Hood, he kills the wolf before it can do anymore harm.

All in all, it's a story about childhood innocence being lost, learning not to trust strangers, and being mindful to always follow the correct path. For if you stray too far, you may lose track of time, invite unwanted danger, or find yourself lost.

In RWBY, we have some very clear allusions here since it's the basis for so much of the show as a whole:

Little Red - Ruby Rose

The Mother - Summer Rose

The Grandmother - Maria

The Hunstman/Woodsman - All Three of Them

The Wolf - Salem and her Grimm (but ESPECIALLY The Hound)

They're all pretty self explanatory.

Ruby has the red cloak, her og trailer is clearly inspired by the tale, she loves baked goods, she's referred to as "Red" and "Little Red" by Torchwick & Cinder. She's also a huntress. And, by and large, her entire arc is about losing that childhood innocence and the view that life "is like a fairytale" as well as struggling with what the "right path" to follow is.

Summer is the mother (baker of cookies) and also the huntsman (slayer of giant monsters). The battle axe being her weapon choice alludes well to the alternate name, Woodsman, as well.

While Maria as the grandmother makes the most sense. Another silver eyed huntress that becomes a mentor figure for Ruby.

And while Salem, her war, & the Grimm (that are all emblematic of that loss of innocence) can absolutely symbolize the wolf... There's a reason why I want to focus on The Hound.

All three previous characters are connected by a very specific common denominator: Silver Eyes.

And the hound is no different.

Just another huntsman... but one devoured by the malice of a canine. And, if Ruby's theory is right, that's the same fate that Summer met as well.

And if you think about Silver Eyes specifically... What is one of the most famous lines from the original fairytale?

"My, what big eyes you have grandmother." "The better to see you with, my dear."

Which, when applied to the grimmification of SEWs, is HAUNTING.

Terrifying when you remember "Woah... you have silver eyes". Also thanks to Behind The Scenes content, that Ruby's hair design was always meant to "be a bit wolf-y". And that since Volume 4, Salem has been interested in capturing Ruby alive... I am WORRIED ABOUT HER.

Some interesting things about silver though that ARE worth noting...

1. "In folklore, a bullet cast from silver is often one of the few weapons that are effective against a werewolf or witch."

2. "The term silver bullet is also a metaphor for a simple, seemingly magical, solution to a difficult problem."

3. "In the Brothers Grimm fairy-tale of The Two Brothers, a bullet-proof witch is shot down by silver buttons, fired from a gun."

The lyric "Yeah I'm a girl but I'm also a gun" from Triumph really tells us point blank (lol) why Ruby is so important to this war against Salem, huh.

I'm gonna end this meta on a fun little easter egg; a hidden fifth character allusion to the original Red Riding Hood fairytale: The Woods.

Now I know what you're thinking, the woods aren't a person, they're a location. But they're INCREDIBLY important to the story.

Overall, the woods are the world outside of the cabin that Little Red grows up in. Whenever she travels beyond it, she's liable to meet all sorts of horrible tragedies and monsters. But I want to talk again specifically about The Hound & just where Ruby first meets them: Atlas.

Or, more specifically, Ironwood's kingdom.

For those unfamiliar, while Jimmy's main allusion is the Tin Man from Oz, his last name gives us a hint to another subtle allusion: Járnviðr. Aka the Iron Wood of Midgard in Norse Mythology (a mythos that's been alluded to a lot in RWBY).

Whiiich if you look at a stanza (40) in the infamous Völuspá, a historic poem which is chalk full of Norse myths, you get the following passage:

In the east sat an old woman in Iron-wood and nurtured there offspring of Fenrir a certain one of them in monstrous form will be the snatcher of the moon

A poem that talks all about the Biggest Baddest Wolf of the Norse pantheon, Fenrir... who is the offspring of a powerful Witch...

and is destined to eat the moon...

All within the Iron Wood, a character Ruby spends an entire volume contemplating on whether or not she can trust...

And the moment she does finally tell Ironwood the truth? The secrets she was keeping? The woods become unsafe, the witch and the wolf appear, and everything else falls apart. Resulting her and her team lost and very far from home.

Say what you want about analyses like these but CRWBY knows what they're doing, okay?

#rwby #ruby rose #rwby meta #analysis #rwby analysis #chainalysis #little red riding hood #did I wanna tie this into warrior in the woods to make it about rg? yes #was i able to? no #that'll have to be its own thing #greenlightvolume10 #long post

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cyphyree · 5 months

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rando Revolutionary Girl Utena thoughts (spoilers)

Kanae, like Snow White, has a toxic mother and is fed a poisoned apple by a witch (Anthy). She is the princess of this story except her prince (Akio) also conspires in her death. The original Snow White tale has her revived when the apple becomes dislodged from her throat though, so maybe that's me hoping that she survived the poisoning.

An apple is also seen in episode 1 with the student council, perhaps foreshadowing that they're also set up to meet Kanae's fate: to be used and then disposed of.

Both the Nanami's Cow Bell and Wakaba Flourishing episodes have a similar montage of the girls shining brightly and playing sports. Utena also plays badminton with Juri, Miki and Nanami in her final interaction with them. Sports seem to be less a competition in this narrative, but rather a sign of happiness and confidence in the self, and also solidarity.

Wakaba's a victim of a system that chooses who is special, and to be unspecial is the same as being insignificant and nothing. Just like how princes can't exist without their princess who they exploit, special people cannot exist without the unspecial who pay the price of upholding the system.

Even when literally walking in Anthy's shoes in the curry episode and facing Anthy's daily problems, Utena doesn't try to understand her situation. She deals with Saionji and the bullies as she normal would as Utena - this might have contributed to her blaming Anthy for being the Rose Bride without understanding her. In Utena's mind, if she were Anthy then she'd simply walk away, right? (This is further complicated by Anthy being purposefully obtuse)

In the movie, Utena turns into a single passenger car for Anthy, while Wakaba turns into a jeep to seat the student council. Shiori's car, despite being self-driven (heh), visibly has at least two seats, including the driver. It seems that she's alone but yearns company

Also in the movie, Akio's broken tower from the series is seen being held up by the greater structure of Anthy's tower. It goes to show that Akio has always relied on Anthy for power, but also that Anthy continues to carry the remnants of her brother in the movie.

#revolutionary girl utena #rgu #sku #shojo kakumei utena #utena thoughts

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cherubispunk · 9 months

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ICHOR. BLOOD. WATER. (part i // ichor.) - Din Djarin x Witch!AFAB!Reader

summary: stranded. alone. a traitor to your people, your family. aeaea is the prison of paradise you call home, and he is the prophecy you like to call an enigma. the 'man made from metal', forged in fire, melted by your spell that is no witchcraft on your part. he is the hunter, you will always be the prey. it is the way as the fates designed it.

a note from lucy: so, its back. i'm officially back! basically, I went through it. accidentally deleted my blog. had to start from scratch. repost it all. but! I'm here. you're here. we're all here! Greek mythology is a huge love of mine. I always like to add a small sprinkling into my fics where possible. and now im writing one based wholly of two greek myths: eros and phsyche, and circe. I've read Madeleine Miller's 'Circe'. I fell in love with it, it's genuinely one of the best books ive had the pleasure of reading --hence the fact that this is heavily based off it in terms of 'lore'. Din is the perfect character for these myths to be translated into fic. So, without further ado, I present to all you lovely people (again lol), my mythology!au; ICHOR. BLOOD. WATER. for @inklore and @psychedelic-ink's haunted hoedown. A three part fic with our beloved space cowboy. I really hope you enjoy it as I put a lot of time and thought into this. I love you all, you wonderful Pedro fanatics.

playlist

wc: 2255 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! mythology!au, no use of y/n, reader is referred to as 'Circe' twice in this chapter alone, dubcon, smut, p in v sex (unprotected), reference to past sexual assault (very mild), cussing, mentions of witchcraft, voyeurism, mentions of drinking alcohol, mentions of food and descriptions of eating, choking, breath play, oral sex - f receiving, edging, orgasm denial, toxic relationships, dom!din/sub!reader dynamic, sex as a means for manipulation and control, manipulative!din, stockholm syndrome?

series m.list | m.list

You had done many things under the pseudonym of Circe. Bird. Crow. What your mother and siblings used as a knife to your throat. An insult in the form of a name. One that man whispered in myth around fires. One a sailor would call out in fear upon reaching the shore of any island in the vicinity of Aeaea. It clung to the disgusted curl of their tongue like the tang of sour fruits. Lemons of Sicily. Limes from crete. Wrapped in letter parchment, sweetened with ink.

Across from you is the god responsible for many of those tall tales. In his gold sheathed glory, olive skin gleaming with a ripple of muscle against the warmth of your hearth. Under it flows ichor, steadily. His winged sandals flutter in a twitch every few minutes. A subtle sound that is heard little too often over the lilt of his voice. Hermes. A deity you invited to your bed when he would visit, indulge in the stories of how he stole cattle as mere youngling, delivered messages of ruin to mortals. Travelled the planes of the underworld from the Styx to Elysium Plains. Hades and his sunken eyes on his throne. Where winged sandals would carry him overseas with his travellers cap and staff of entwined twin snakes.

He would sit upon your chair, open his loose lips and a drone would pour out, Maybe to a mortal he would seem all so interesting. One to dote hours of your day to the thick honey like pouring of his voice in your ear. But to you – the witch – a goddess in your own right, he was a mere drag. A rake. A god worthy of being turned to swine at the unjust sight of his curling smirk.

You would have drifted off it weren't for his voice picking up in interest, your ears perking up with it. The high buzz from his drone of white noise faded, ebbing into coherence while his lips drifted in voice. Practised and perfected movement the way any divine being did.

“The fates speak of a man. Made of metal.” He mused, studying his thumb and forefinger as a stand of your lionesses hair was snagged between it. You wished to singe it from his fingertips. “A warrior.” “From overseas of Greece?” Now, and only now, he had your attention.

“Further.”

You muttered a curse under your breath. Where would be further. “He will sail on a ship, strand himself on your shores engulfed with fire. And you shall do as you have before.”

“Take it?” You sneered, sitting forward in your seat, teeth bared at him. “I suppose I shall feed him before he sets his disgusting hands upon me.”

“Oh come now,” He smirked, “Were you not to take him to your bed regardless?”

“I shall sew your mouth shut for such accusations.”

Hermes sighed, rolling his eyes in all his dramatics. Lounging in his seat.

“Circe, you humour me with your feral tongue.”

“And you disgust me with your plight.” “Ah,” he held up a single finger, humour on his face at the top of his curled lip, “I may be bored. But at least I have the world. You, Circe,” he spat, raising a brow in sickening amusement, “have nothing.”

Your face drained of colour. Your heart aching in its chasm of a chest, ribs pinching. He was right. Your oasis was still a prison. Despite its bars of gold, it still held you. Contained you.

He stood in his victory over you, taking one last look around. “One last thing–”

“Oh, there’s more, is there?” You sighed, staying seated. For all his heirs and graces, he was no more worthy of your respect than the dirt caked to your bare feet in winter's first bite. The god merely crossed his arms, a diving wind rustling the blonde curls upon his head, wrapped in laurels,

“You must never look upon his face.”

You sat in a furrowed brow muddle. He had drifted to the wind, turned to a shimmering spectacle of dust, in nothing more than a blink.

—

He came with a blundering sputter. In a ship that was no ship of wood that sailed on tides. A hunk of chrome with spitting fans of fiery heat. A thwip through your cloudless skies to crash upon sandy shores.

He came…with a child. A green creature with pointed ears similar to satyrs, no taller than your mid calf, alien to you. Wide hickory eyes that masked his face with innocence, having seen things unspeakable to even brave sailors. And when they sat at your table, piled plentifully with sweet figs, legs of mutton infused with rosemary, steamed and seasoned greens, and honey in its jar, the man of metal left all deserted by his lips. His plate was clean, wine untouched in his cup. Never once needing an added refill. Nor did he speak kindly. Rather, reserved. Gruff, distorted by something in his helmet seemingly fused to his head. While the child chewed on the fleshy roasted bone of lamb.

Rhythms of autumn, songs of summer, ballads of winter watched over you and the meadows you walked. Gardens you tended to. Woods you roamed. And he did too. There was something within him. Under that beskar. It called, howled, growled in insubordination. A vulgar hatred of being vulnerable out in this position. Where you held an advantage of both terrain and power.

So he took in a way he knew. In carnal, biting desire paced by him. Phallically. Reversed the role of who won who, made you beg in your own bed, in the drowning pools of darkness. Never to see his face.

But oh so familiar.

The first time he took you was akin to a memory in the very moment it happened. A haze of something so absurd it couldn't possibly have been true. Played out the way it did. The Mandalorian watched while you bathed. In a creek not too far from the path. A rock for your lioness to splay out over, sunbathe and make her coat gleam gold like the ichor in your veins. Her ears pricked at a sound he made. One you did not hear with your head submerged under the clear pool.

She looked up, lifting her whiskered chin from her large paws, and her eyes met his. He did not fret. Nor did he stop and turn away from the great willow he stood below. Only glanced from her to the curve of your bare chest rippling above the crystal waters rippling surface.

From there, he had stalked you to the deeper parts of the forest where even your familiar did not follow. Watched as a wicker basket was tucked under your arm, flowers and mosses being picked from the ground as you went about gathering pharmakeia for your draughts.

He appeared, bringing his musk while his hand clamped down over your parted lips. Pressed your front firmly into the tree, hands scraped gold raw by the silver birch’s peeling bark.

“Don’t.” He growled upon your demand to turn around. “Face the tree.”

And you obeyed in tandem with the hiss of something– his helmet– as it dropped to the dewy floor by your bare feet. A single kiss, seasoned with sparse prickled hairs was laid to the nape of your neck, a wondrous dichotomy to the events yet to unfold, noises of restraint on the tip of his tongue, the back of his throat. The skirts of your dress were gathered in messy haste, undergarments pulled to the side, revealing the shine of your own slick. How you dreamed in secret nights of this very moment. His taking of you, his claiming of your cunt— grunting while he invaded the tightness of your walls, flayed you open forever like a sacred text, ready for him to read once again.

A large palm of his, gloved in leather, pressed to the nape of your neck where the notch of your spine ended and your skull began to curve, thumb pressed to flesh, fingers curled into gnarled hair. You gasped, cold air nipping the back of your exposed thighs, fully clothed still, yet bent to submission by the masculine will of him. Naked.

The orgasm was The Mandalorians. And the Mandalorians alone. You never questioned the burning ache of pending release. Merely let it simmer in the tight heat of your walls at the mouth of your cervix. His noise still stinging in your ears, shocking the breath from your lungs. He took no time. It was a rush for his release. His domination of the witch of Aeaea.

From that moment onwards, you imagined his lips, recited in drugged sleep to the egyptian cotton and goose down of your pillow. His irises. To write a poem on parchment about something you could not see, nor ever would per his and Herme’s telling. Fingertips itching to feel warmth of skin, not beskar. While his armour was smooth, buffed, polished to shine in rays of Helios's chariot, it was cold to the touch. You had his visage mapped in your mind. Well trodden by fingertips such as the paths by the tall cliffs. The Mandalorian. Nameless. Faceless.

He spent each night for a fortnight in your bed. The first, he parted your legs himself, and the rest they were already spayed open for his wanting. He snuffed the candles with his thumb and forefinger, unsheathing them from his gloves before doing so. You watched with intent from the sheets as his visage dominated the tall door frame. Shoulders broad and intimidating the negative space he occupied. Only when he was shrouded in utter darkness did he remove his helmet, climb his way up to your parted lips. Curating a careful path from them, over the column of your throat, descending your navel to the forbidden fruit gleaming, ripe and juicy for his lips. Ready for his first damning lick of your sex.

Like the apple in the garden of Eden, temptation on Lucifer's forked tongue, he delved deeper, rested his naked face between your tensing thighs. Broad arms, still sheathed in beskar curled under them, dragging you closer to his open mouth while your arousal, slick and thick as honey, drizzled out your weeping hole to his open, wanting mout.

His tongue drew ellipsis over the twitching bud of your clit. Thick and firm, the tip pressing into your cunt, following your hot seam down to your quivering hole. He dipped inside, curling it to draw the taste out. You couldn't see his eyes. But you liked to imagine they were open to feast on the sight of your quivering and naked chest the best he could without the guide of the candlelight. Now snuffed into curling stings of smoke. Staring while you were shaking under the pleasure rolling up from your centre and cascading like a landslide down your spine. It made you shiver. The soft plush of your legs swallowing his exposed ears, the small, neatly trimmed curls tickling the sensitive flesh. His coarse beard, scruff scattered in a smattering over his sharp chin scratching your skin.

A low groan rumbled from the back of his throat, your tang dancing with light feet over his taste buds And his nose bumped into your clit as he tasted more. Devoured your cunt like his last meal.

It wasn't long before you felt the burn behind your eyes replicate in knots in your belly. Tightening at the mouth of your cervix while he ate at you. A cry of his name bursting from your chest as he flicked his tongue with vigour. He had one aim in mind. To taste your release. The sticky mess that would coat his lower face.

“Give it to me.” He commanded. And oh, how you tried. You willingly left this realm while he licked at your pussy, his tongue languidly rolling up one side of your labia, up to your clit and circling it, then down the other side to plunge into your tight, clenching hole once more.

You nimble fingers curled into his hair. It was coarse, wispy at its ends where it started to coil loosely. And you gripped it as you ground your core into his face. RIding and grinding into his face that was exposed to your quivering cunt. Not ready to part with the way his ips enclosed around your clit and added enough suction for you to see Ouranos and all the stars that tattooed his blue skin.

You panted a chorus of heavenly oh’s. Breath came in heavy as he pulled back to spit. You felt it, cold in contrast to your own heat, drooling down to your slick entrance. It quivered when he added a finger, curling up from the second knuckle. It was merely one digit. But it stretched you out, had you reeling while he beckoned your orgasm closer to materialising in your belly.

He could smell the musk of you and it was divine.

He had your orgasm building and building into a near state of harrowing oblivion before he let it rip through you. The first wave was one of numbing pleasure. The one that fizzled through your legs until you were nothing but a mere speck for a second. And then it broke, like some great epiphany from him as an enigma.

He stood, replaced his helmet, leaving you boneless. A quivering, babbling mess of sweat and slick in your own sheets.

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thenightling · 2 years

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Sandman Easter Eggs

Real Easter Eggs in The Sandman Netflix series that have been noticed so far:

Warning there are spoilers in this list.

1. The Key to Hell (a major plot point in The Sandman: Season of Mists) is a sigil in the binding circle that holds Morpheus.

2. Gregory dying and little Goldie hatching may be foreshadowing for a certain comic storyline.

3. The little flowers that sprouted up when Gregory was uncreated are very similar to the red flowers that formed from the dripping blood on Morpheus's hands when he had to euthanize his son in The Sandman: Brief Lives.

4. (This was in the comics). Judy's ex is Donna AKA Foxglove, a major character in The Sandman: A game of you.

5. Gault's name might be an attempt to merge Brute and Glob's names together. The characters she replaced. Obviously they wouldn't use Groot.

6. The name of John Constantine's punk band is on a poster in episode 3. 7. The mad Mod witch is also on a poster in episode 3.

8. Mike Dringenberg is an artist for The Sandman comics. You will see a sign behind the Corinthian when he talks to Nimrod, The Good Doctor, and Funland. The sign reads "Mike's Drinks and Burgers."

9. The carvings on the gates of horn tell the story of Morpheus and Alianora and how he got his helm. They are exact replicas of the panels from The Sandman: Overture. There are two sets of gates in the Realm of Dreams (The gates were originally referenced in Homer's The Odyssey). One set of gates made of horn, and one set of gates made of ivory. The dreams that pass through the gates made of ivory are false and deceptive. The dreams that pass through the gates made of horn are true, whether literally or metaphorically. Morpheus prefers to use the horned gates so the ones you see him push open are the ones made of horn.

10. When Morpheus leaves The Corinthian in the first episode he is fully clothed. When he is summoned his clothing are gone and his helm is beaten up. This is because the events of The Sandman: Overture have happened in what was for us just a few seconds.

11. This is more trivia than anything. Squatterbloat is now being used for his original purpose of gatekeeper and guide. The guide in the comics was the rhyming demon, Etrigan. Rhyming is a sign of status among some demons and they do it with pride.

12. The episode Imperfect Hosts is pun on the fact that Cain, Abel, Lucien (now Lucienne), Destiny, Even (who hasn't appeared in the show yet), Mad Mod Witch (who hasn't appeared in the show), and The Three Witches (Hecate, Fates, Furies) were all old horror hosts. They hosted the DC Horror anthology comics similar to Tales from the Crypt. Cain hosted The House of Mystery. Abel hosted The House of Secrets. Lucien hosted Tales of Ghost Castle. The Three Witches hosted The Witching Hour. This pun existed in the comics as well. 13. After Abel's second murder in the episode Imperfect Hosts, you will see Cain snag a cookie (biscuit). This is a nod to the old House of Mystery comics where Cain had a sweet tooth. In one issue Karen Berger (founder of Vertigo and the one who took a chance on the original Sandman comics) bribed Cain with cookies.

14. Lyta is originally from a defunct continuity where she was Wonder Woman's daughter. Her name was short for Hippolyta, named after Wonder Woman's mother.

15. Jed was a character from the 1976 Sandman comics and now (in his dreams) wears the costume of that hero as a little call back to his origin. Hector Hall served as that hero for a time but that was left out of the TV show.

16. Hector is from a semi-defunct continuity where he was the grandson of Carter Hall (Hawkman). Hector and Lyta have been used repeatedly in DC comics and in their most recent appearances in JSA (2008) they died and their souls were taken into The Dreaming by their son, Daniel. This was Hector's second death because... comic books. He was revived after Sandman and then killed again.

17. Jed has twelve inch action figures of both Wonder Woman and Batman.

18. Morpheus's capture is in 1916 to overlap with the real world sleeping sickness that happened around that time.

19. Death being given an apple by a friendly fruit vender is from the comic Death: The High cost of Living.

20. Though not shown in the episode, the hunger Hob describes feeling but not being able to die from it- Morpheus experienced that in his captivity. In the comics the first thing he did when he escaped was eat, before even conjuring clothing. He raided a dream buffet. 21. The sigils in each Endless Gallery are supposed to be in age order. A book (Destiny), an Ankh (Death), the helm (Dream), a blank space (formerly a sword for Destruction), A heart (Desire), a hooked ring (Despair), and a swirl of color for Delirium. An illustration mistake put Death's ankh first in some of the early comics depicting Desire's gallery. That mistake was deliberately inserted into the TV series as a homage to the original comics. 22. Matthew The Raven was Matthew Cable (a character from Swamp Thing) when he was alive. If you would like a version of his backstory, watch the canceled 2019 Swamp Thing Series. Very different actor but that was the same character (originally). When they found out Swamp Thing would not get a second season they tacked on a scene of Matthew being killed just in case The Sandman got adapted since Matthew the raven was made from Matthew’s ghost. 23. Ric the Vic was an ally of John Constantine's in the comics. 24. The Boogey Man and Family Man (mentioned by the serial killers) were villains from DC comics. Family Man was actually the killer of John Constantine's father. Both Family Man and Boogey Man died. One in Swamp Thing, one in Hellblazer (John Constantine's comics). 25. John Dee is the old Justice League villain, Doctor Destiny. It was probably wise not to use his alias as it would confuse new fans with Destiny of The Endless. 26. Pandemonium (meaning "All the Demons”) is the capital city of Hell in John Milton's Paradise Lost. This is where the word comes from. In The Sandman Netflix series Pandemonium deliberately resembles The Vatican. 27. Matthew comments on how cold Hell is. Believe it or not the earliest depictions of Hell were of a very cold place because it was devoid of God's light, love, and warmth. It was medieval art that popularized the idea of Hell being hot. 28. The Wonder Woman 1984 movie borrows Morpheus's Dreamstone and reinvents it as a plot device with a different design. The actor who plays Abel is also in Wonder Woman 1984 as the man who wished for a cup of coffee. I choose to pretend it was Abel in disguise. 29. Many actors in The Sandman bonus episode Dream of a Thousand Cats and Calliope were in The Sandman Audio drama. David Tennant (Loki in the audio drama), Michael Sheen (Lucifer), Arthur Darvill (Shakespeare), James McAvoy (Morpheus), and Neil Gaiman.

30. Arthur Darvill has played three DC characters so far. Shakespeare (Sandman audio drama), Richard Madoc (Sandman Netflix series), and Rip Hunter (Legends of Tomorrow).

31. Mark Hamill has played The Joker (Batman animated series, animated movies and video games), Trickster (The Flash 1990s series and Justice League: Action), and Swamp Thing (Justice League Action) and now Mervyn Pumpkinhead (Sandman). Mark Hamill has also voiced Marvel characters like Hobgoblin (90s Spiderman animated series), and ironically he was Nightmare in Ultimate Spiderman (Animated series). Nightmare (ruler of the Dream Dimension) is pretty much Marvel’s equivalent of Dream if he had never had his “time out” bubble. Though Nightmare was created first he went under drastic revisions to make him more and more like Dream. In fact in the 2019 Deadpool: Annual 1, when Deadpool landed in Nightmare’s throne room he quips “Is Neil Gaiman going to sue us for this?” Bonus: 32. Cain and his house of Mystery appeared in the animated series Justice League: Action for the episode Trick or threat. 33. The grimoire used to summon and trap Morpheus was used in the Justice League: Action episode Supernatural adventures in Babysitting (though they used the wrong pronunciation. It’s Mawd-lin Grimoire, not Magda-lin Grimoire) even though it’s spent Magdalene Grimoire. 34. Death has an animated short called DC Showcase: Death. It is a bonus feature on the blu ray for the animated movie Wonder Woman: Bloodlines. 35. Morpheus’s helm appears as an Easter Egg in a Smallvile tie-in comic. 36. The storyline of the Lucifer TV show where Lucifer quits ruling Hell, goes to Earth, is followed by his loyal demon, Mazikeen, opens Lux, and takes up piano and singing is from The Sandman: Season of Mists. 37. The plot of Dead Boy Detectives is also from The Sandman: Season of Mists.

#The Sandman #Sandman #Neil Gaiman

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richincolor · 9 months

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Mid-Autumn and Mooncakes

With the Mid-Autumn Festival coming up at the end of September, mooncakes have been on my mind. Several conversations have revolved around the festival and food in my real life and on social media so I started wondering if there were YA books for that. And yes indeed, here are a few books featuring the moon or mooncakes that I've read or have on my TBR.

Retellings Related to the Moon

An Arrow to the Moon by Emily X.R. Pan Little, Brown Books For Young Readers

Hunter Yee has perfect aim with a bow and arrow, but all else in his life veers wrong. He’s sick of being haunted by his family’s past mistakes. The only things keeping him from running away are his little brother, a supernatural wind, and the bewitching girl at his new high school.

Luna Chang dreads the future. Graduation looms ahead, and her parents’ expectations are stifling. When she begins to break the rules, she finds her life upended by the strange new boy in her class, the arrival of unearthly fireflies, and an ominous crack spreading across the town of Fairbridge.

As Hunter and Luna navigate their families’ enmity and secrets, everything around them begins to fall apart. All they can depend on is their love… but time is running out, and fate will have its way.

Daughter of the Moon Goddess by Sue Lynn Tan Harper Voyager

Growing up on the moon, Xingyin is accustomed to solitude, unaware that she is being hidden from the feared Celestial Emperor who exiled her mother for stealing his elixir of immortality. But when Xingyin’s magic flares and her existence is discovered, she is forced to flee her home, leaving her mother behind.

Alone, powerless, and afraid, she makes her way to the Celestial Kingdom, a land of wonder and secrets. Disguising her identity, she seizes an opportunity to learn alongside the emperor's son, mastering archery and magic, even as passion flames between her and the prince.

To save her mother, Xingyin embarks on a perilous quest, confronting legendary creatures and vicious enemies across the earth and skies. But when treachery looms and forbidden magic threatens the kingdom, she must challenge the ruthless Celestial Emperor for her dream—striking a dangerous bargain in which she is torn between losing all she loves or plunging the realm into chaos.

A captivating debut fantasy inspired by the legend of Chang'e, the Chinese moon goddess, in which a young woman’s quest to free her mother pits her against the most powerful immortal in the realm. Daughter of the Moon Goddess begins an enchanting, romantic duology which weaves ancient Chinese mythology into a sweeping adventure of immortals and magic—where love vies with honor, dreams are fraught with betrayal, and hope emerges triumphant.

Mooncakes

Mooncakes by Suzanne Walker and Wendy Xu Oni Press [Jessica's Review]

A story of love and demons, family and witchcraft.

Nova Huang knows more about magic than your average teen witch. She works at her grandmothers' bookshop, where she helps them loan out spell books and investigate any supernatural occurrences in their New England town.

One fateful night, she follows reports of a white wolf into the woods, and she comes across the unexpected: her childhood crush, Tam Lang, battling a horse demon in the woods. As a werewolf, Tam has been wandering from place to place for years, unable to call any town home.

Pursued by dark forces eager to claim the magic of wolves and out of options, Tam turns to Nova for help. Their latent feelings are rekindled against the backdrop of witchcraft, untested magic, occult rituals, and family ties both new and old in this enchanting tale of self-discovery.

When You Wish Upon a Lantern by Gloria Chao Viking

Liya and Kai had been best friends since they were little kids, but all that changed when a humiliating incident sparked The Biggest Misunderstanding Of All Time—and they haven’t spoken since.

Then Liya discovers her family's wishing lantern store is struggling, and she decides to resume a tradition she had with her beloved late grandmother: secretly fulfilling the wishes people write on the lanterns they send into the sky. It may boost sales and save the store, but she can't do it alone . . . and Kai is the only one who cares enough to help.

While working on their covert missions, Liya and Kai rekindle their friendship—and maybe more. But when their feuding families and their changing futures threaten to tear them apart again, can they find a way to make their own wishes come true?

Fake Dates and Mooncakes by Sher Lee Underlined

Dylan Tang wants to win a Mid-Autumn Festival mooncake-making competition for teen chefs—in memory of his mom, and to bring much-needed publicity to his aunt’s struggling Chinese takeout in Brooklyn.

Enter Theo Somers: charming, wealthy, with a smile that makes Dylan’s stomach do backflips. AKA a distraction. Their worlds are sun-and-moon apart, but Theo keeps showing up. He even convinces Dylan to be his fake date at a family wedding in the Hamptons.

In Theo’s glittering world of pomp, privilege, and crazy rich drama, their romance is supposed to be just pretend . . . but Dylan finds himself falling for Theo. For real. Then Theo’s relatives reveal their true colors—but with the mooncake contest looming, Dylan can’t risk being sidetracked by rich-people problems.

Can Dylan save his family’s business and follow his heart—or will he fail to do both?

#mid autumn festival #mooncakes #young adult books

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the-goblin-babe · 1 year

Text

To Owe An Orc

Once the sun sets, the forest belongs to the Orcs.

This it what your mother taught you, what her mother before her had taught as well. You wonder now how far back the warning went.

And they believe, my child, that any pretty little thing stumbling around in it belongs to them as well.

You are a witch living alone in the deep dark wood. Perhaps you care for and heal the people in the surrounding villages. Perhaps you don't. Either way it was well known for miles around that this was the witching wood, your home. Except for when the sun set, and you retreat to your cosy little cottage.

For your family had a deal with the monsters that came out at night, and you minded it well.

Then one night word reaches you of a young woman in desperate need of your help, and she cannot wait. You'll have to brave the night or leave her to her fate.

But someone waits for you. And they would love to keep the pretty little witch that has wandered into their forest.

To Owe and Orc is an in progress 18+ interactive romance featuring explicit sexual scenes and a single gender selectable orc love interest with optional sexual encounters with other characters. The story will feature dark themes, with a full list of content warnings to be added in the future.

-Characters-

Play as male or female and customise your appearance. The player has a certain level of control over how the MC reacts to the RO and the optional sexual encounters, generally how submissive they are.

Ranash (M/F) (RO)

Though the subject of cautionary tales told to you all our life, Ranash is the first orc you've ever met. They manage to be at once everything you were warned of and completely different. Commanding and possessive, frightening even. Hopelessly lost in their forest, they offer to help you. Is it worth being in their debt?

Sol (M) (Optional sexual encounter)

A close friend of Ranash, Sol seems to be their opposite. Good natured and easy going, he is very curious about you. Despite yourself you feel comforted by his kind presence, but part of you is unsure. The way you sometimes catch him looking at you and Ranash makes you wonder.

Naz (F) (Optional sexual encounter)

Lost in the woods, Ranash had scared you terribly. You thought they were the very picture of the monstrous, awful orcs you had been warned about. You were proved wrong as soon as you laid eyes on Naz, almost seven foot of pure muscle and an aura of ice cold intimidation. She's taken a liking to you. It isn't comforting.

I’m unsure at the moment how long this is going to be, so as of right now I don’t know if I’ll be releasing any kind of demo. I’ll let you know as soon as I know.

#interactive fiction #choicescript #interactive games #if games #if wip #wip #monster fucker #monster over #monster x reader #orc #orcs #to owe an orc

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zeciex · 8 months

Text

A Vow of Blood

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: “You will be trapped by the obligations of love and duty, unable to escape the web of expectations others have woven around you,“ the witch said….

Daenera Velaryon returns to King’s Landing with the intention of bolstering her mother’s position and reminding both the Greens and nobility that Rhaenyra is the rightful heir to the throne. She has a specific goal in mind: to be a constant source of annoyance to the Greens and is willing to play the political game without hesitation.

However, what catches her off guard is the way Aemond gazes at her and seems to relish in her suffering. He openly expresses his desire to bring about her downfall, her ruination.

This situation leads to a tense game of cat and mouse, with each move escalating the already high stakes. Will their precarious situation crumble as the dragons soar above, or will fate intervene?

After all, love often demands the sacrifice of duty, just as duty can sometimes lead to the demise of love. Characters: Aemond Targaryen X OC, HOTD characters.

Chapter 10: Beware the Blood Red Roses Thorns

AO3 - Masterlist

In the stillness of the godswood, Daenera enjoyed the serene solitude that enveloped her. The whispering of the wind through the ancient tree's crown, the gentle sound of the rustling of its blood red leaves, a strange soothing comfort. The outside world seemed none existent within these walls. And here, amidst the gnarles and sturdy roots of the three, she sought solace, leaning her back against the smooth white bark.

With a book cradled in her lap, its pages filled with tales of the ancient world, of the children of the forest and the first men. The dappled sunlight filtered through the veil of crimson foliage, casting a warm and diffused glow upon the pages, as she traced her fingers over the written words, the stories often bringing her more questions than answers.

“Your mother came here often as a young girl,” Lord Larys Strong remarked quietly, his voice cutting through the tranquil silence. A soft smile played in his lips, and he veered from the path and made his way towards a cluster of flowers growing near the encircling walls of the godswood.

Daenera felt a jolt go through her and her gaze shifted from the pages to the middle-aged man with a hint of gray and white stubble adorning his chin. Cold gray eyes met hers, accompanied by half-long hair swept behind his ears. She had been in King’s Landing for a while now, and had yet to speak with him. It appeared that he sought to change that.

“It’s the solitude,” she replied, acknowledging his presence, curious and a bit apprehensive of his sudden appearance. Her eyes tracked Larys’ movements as he plucked a flower from the bush. “People rarely bother you when they think you’re in prayer.”

Larys’ smile widened as his gaze locked with Daenera’s. “And are you praying to the old gods?”

Her response came without hesitation. “No.”

Using his cane for support, Larys slowly approached her, twirling the flower between his fingers. “You’ve grown into quite a beautiful flower.”

He extended the flower towards Daenera, and after a brief moment of hesitation, she accepted it from his hand. “Thank you, my lord Strong.”

“Please,” Larys interjected, leaning against one of the massive roots of the weirwood. “I’d prefer you call me Larys. Lord Strong was my father.”

“Lord Larys, then,” Daenera conceded, her tone devoid of any intention to prolog formalities. She was unsure of Larys’ motives or his reason for seeking her out now, all of a sudden. She felt a subtle wariness settle within her.

There was something in Lary’s eyes that evoked a memory within her, a recollection of a shark she had once seen displayed near the docks, its cold, dead gaze fixed upon her as it hung upside down. It was a disconcerting resemblance. Yet, Larys was not a shark; he was a man who had suffered as much loss as she had. She supposed that could be the reason for his cold eyes.

Daenera offered him a soft smile, tinged with a trace of melancholy. “I remember your father. He served as a commendable Lord Hand, remaining loyal to the King until the very end… And your brother, Ser Harwin, was always kind to me.”

There was an ambiguous change in Larys’ eyes, a fleeting sharpness that quickly receded.

Folding his hands on the head of his cane, he seemed to withdraw, his soldiers slumping slightly. His appearance bore no resemblance to his brother. Where Harwin had possessed a commanding presence, Larys appeared small. In contrast to Harwin’s strength, Larys exuded frailty. Even his hair, thin and brittle, stood in stark contrast to Ser Harwin’s wild and dark curls.

Their eyes, however, diverged the most. Ser Harwin’s eyes were deep and blue, with brown speckles, and the crows feet at the corner of his eyes were lines made from a life well-lived. They had been warm and devoted, brimming with love.

Larys, on the other hand, possessed watery gray eyes that flickered between sharpness and fragile softness.

“The fire was a tragic accident,” Larys agreed with a sigh, his gaze filled with sorrow. “The kingdom suffered a great loss that day. They remained loyal to the crown until the very end. If only my brother hadn’t brought disgrace upon himself…”

“Your brother was an honorable man,” Daenera opposed.

The memory of that day flooded back to her. She saw his face etched with sadness, concern and a promise left unfulfilled.

The witch's words echoed in her mind, warning of the dire consequences if Harwin were to leave King’s Landing. House Strong had lost their lord and heir in one fell swoop, leaving the burden of picking up the shattered fragments of their house upon the second son. Daenera could scarcely imagine the weight that had been placed upon him. It was difficult enough to mend her own broken pieces.

“My brother held you in high regard, Princess Daenera. He treasured the moments he spent with you in the woods,” Larys shared, his eyes reflecting both sympathy and watchfulness, waiting for her reaction.

Did he know?

It seemed likely, but Daenera couldn’t be certain. Consequently, she offered a gentle smile and glanced down at the flower in her hand. Its bright punk leaves and yellow center identified it as hollyhock, the flower emitting a sweet fragrance.

Naturally, he wouldn’t openly disclose their familiar connection. Such revelation would undoubtedly lead to dire consequences, with their heads mounted on pikes. Aemond appeared relatively unfazed by the potential fallout, but even he chose his moments carefully, ensuring no one overheard whatever he chose to call her.

Larys couldn’t say it, but the implication hung in the air.

“I believe flowers carry meanings, don’t they?” Larys inquired, diverting their conversation.

Daenera’s eyes lifted from the flower. “Indeed, they do, although I’m not well-versed in the symbolism of flowers.”

Larys confessed, his voice laced with genuine fascination, “Nor am I. Truthfully, I just find myself entranced by their delicate beauty.”

Uncomfortable with the sudden shift in the air, Daenera’s eyes returned to the flower, her thoughts tinged with unease.

“I have something of yours that I wish to return,” Larys revealed, drawing her attention back to him.

She raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Oh?”

With a flick of his hand, larys opened the flap of his satchel and retrieved its contents. The shoes, crafted from dark red fabric adorned with intricate embroidery and sewn stones, now rested on the sturdy root of the tree, their color standing out against the white bark. Larys’ cold eyes watched her intently.

“One should not leave their belongings lying around. They might fall into the worn hands and convey an unintended impression,” Larys cautioned, his fingers drumming on the cane’s head. “It is best to avoid leaving a trail of evidence.”

“Evidence,” Daenera repeated, attempting to discern his meaning. “Are you insinuating that something… untoward occurred after the feast?”

A barely concealed smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he struggled to retrain it. “Of course not. I’m merely cautioning you about how others might interpret such circumstances.”

“Through misplaced shoes?”

“ Your misplaced shoes. It’s important to keep your wits about you, Princess. Not everyone you encounter here has good intentions like I do. Lost shoes can quickly transform into something entirely different.”

Dread settled upon Daenera’s chest, leaving her mouth parched. He knew about her clandestine meeting with Aemond. He had to, otherwise he wouldn’t be here returning her shoes while delivering a warning. He wanted her to know that he possessed the knowledge, and, from the sound of it, he intended to keep it secret. Perhaps he was more similar to his brother than she had initially assumed.

“I appreciate your gesture, Lord Larys, in returning my shoes. I must admit the wine got to my head. I will make sure not to leave anything lying around in the future,” Daenera replied, her words carefully veiled yet pointed. She would ensure she left no trace for others to discover and exploit. It had been foolish of her to misplace her shoes anywhere other than in her quarters.

“I do not require your thanks, I am here merely to serve,” Larys responded, placing his hand over his chest as he emphasized his genuine intentions.

“And whom do you serve?” Daenera inquired cautiously. As much as she wanted to believe that he had her best interest at heart, she wasn’t sure. This whole approach could be a warning as much as it could be a simple introduction.

“The crown and the council, naturally,” Larys declared, tongue darting out to wet his lips. He leaned slightly towards her. “If you ever find yourself in need of a friend, I am here to assist you. It’s the least I can do in my brother's memory.”

“You are kind, just as your brother was,” Daenera said.

Larys bowed in her direction before rising from the root, swaying slightly on his feet.

Daenera watched him depart with growing unease. Did he truly know? It seemed likely, and this encounter might have been his way of conveying that she could trust him.

With her concentration disrupted, she closed the book abruptly, tucked the shoes between her book and her chest, and left the godswood. If only Aemond had fed the damned shoes to the fire…

Upon returning to her quarters, Daenera found Jelissa on her knees scrubbing the floor, while Joyce diligently dusted the tabletops and cleared away any lurking spider webs in the corners. Jelissa leaned back, using her wrist to brush her hair out of her face, her cheeks flushed.

“What do you know of Lord Larys?” Daenera inquired, sinking onto the settee with a huff, sprawling out over the pillows like a petulant child.

“Lord Larys?” Jelissa echoed, puzzled. “He seems like a nice man. Well-mannered and of gentle demeanor. He’s polite to all the servants.”

“Just because a man appears well-mannered and polite doesn’t necessarily mean he is a good man,” Joyce interjected, playing her hands on her hips, a discerning scowl on her face. “Why do you ask?”

Daenera tossed the returned shoes onto the floor. “He returned these.”

Joyce’s eyes narrowed.

“That kind of him,” Jelissa commented from her position on the floor, sensing the tension that had settled into Joyce’s shoulders. The older wore a pinched expression that made her appear her age.

“Very kind indeed,” Joyce acknowledged tersely. “And did this act of returning come with a warning?”

Daenera sat up with a groan. If only people would be forthright with their intentions instead of engaging in constant guessing games and deciphering words. Perhaps it had just been a simple gesture. “He cautioned me to be mindful of what I leave behind and offered his assistance if I were ever in need. He seemed genuine.”

Joyce made a disapproving sound and walked over to the fireplace. Daenera joined her, and Joyce raised a finger, silently signaling Daenera to remain silent.

“Jelissa, why don’t you sing a song?” Joyce suggested.

“A song?” Jelissa quipped hesitantly, unsure why she was suddenly being asked to sing.

“Yes, any song will do. Just sing!” Joyce replied, urging Jelissa to comply.

A storm is loosed upon the seaWhose eye is stained with tearsA wretch Hell-bound and bent on bloodThe makings of the fearful's fears

Jelissa complied with Joyce’s request, raising her voice as commanded. Despite being a romantic at heart, she had a predilection for tragic sons, much to Joyce’s chagrin. The older woman redirected her attention to Daenera, using Jelissa’s singing to conceal their conversation should anyone listen in.

“You don’t trust him, do you?” Daenera inquired.

“No,” Joyce confirmed. “There’s something about him that sets me on edge. I’ve heard little about him from the servants, but I’ve been told he’s close with the Queen.”

“He has to maintain a friendly relationship with the Queen,” Daenera dismissed, wanting foolishly to see the good in him. “It is how it is, being on the council.”

The tide it stole away her grace

The depths, they wouldn't claim her

A toil begat by father's blood

This path was laid before her

Joyce shook her head in disagreement. “You can’t trust him. You don’t know what his intentions are.”

“If he had ill intentions, he could have used the shoes to create a sandal. He could have planted them somewhere and spread rumors,” Daenera countered.

“Unless he wanted you to trust him,” Joyce retorted. “Come on, Daenera. I know you’re not naive or stupid. Everyone in court has their own motives.”

“What could he possibly want from me? He holds a powerful position as the Lord of Harrenhal and an esteemed member of the council. He has already positioned himself well. There’s little I can offer him,” Daenera argued.

“Every man desires something from you,” Joyce stated, growing frustrated with Daenera’s stubborn defense of the man she hardly knew. It was as if she was still a child, refusing to face the harsh realities. “And I know you understand this. If you have nothing to offer him, but he seeks you out anyway, it should alarm you. The question is, why aren’t you more cautious about his intentions?”

Redemption borne by brigand's blood

A blight upon the darkness

The pact embraced, a road unsought

The Maiden of Death won't be unwrought

“You think he knows.” The moment Joyce voiced her suspicions, everything clicked into place. Her eyes grew sympathetic and she reached to brush a hand over the princesses shoulders.

“How could he not?” Her voice was small and child-like. She was no longer the self-assured princess who was suspicious of everyone in King’s Landing, but the little girl who had watched her father ride away, holding his promise close to heart. “How could he not know, when I resemble his brother, as everyone points out.”

“Do you believe his interests are solely based on some unspoken family tie?”

Daenera closed her eyes, feeling a wave of conflicting emotions wash over her. If it weren’t for the shared blood between them, she would never consider trusting him. But the undeniable truth remained that he was her true father’s brother. It might be naive and childish, but in this treacherous court, she longed for someone else to trust.

“Blood doesn’t always make someone family,” Joyce asserted, rubbing Daenera’s tense shoulders. Her caring gaze mirrored that of a mother looking upon their child. “He may be your uncle, Ser Hawin’s brother, but that doesn’t mean he deserves your trust by virtue of shared blood.”

“Ser Harwin…” Daenera’s voice trembled.

“Is gone,” Joyce continued, her eyebrows raising, deepening the wrinkles on her forehead. “His brother cannot replace him, and you don’t truly know him. You are unaware of his ambitions.”

Daenera bit her lip, the events of the day taking an emotional toll. What had started as a promising day now brought her to the brink of tears, and she felt the familiar ache in her heart. She was once again a vulnerable child, and despite the challenges she faced back then, it seemed to have been easier. “I miss him.”

“I know,” Joyce responded, tenderly cupping Daenera’s face, her expression filled with understanding.

Her wrath is known throughout the black

The gardens of death she is tending

Vengeance is her only ward

Beware the blood red rose's thorn

Oh-oh-oh

Oh-oh-oh-oh

#hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond the kinslayer #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #A Vow of Blood #my fanfiction

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revoevokukil · 1 year

Text

On why TWN's angle on Falka & Lara Dorren in relation to Ciri's arc is pretty weird & misleading.

It overemphasises sticking it to misogyny & forgets that The Witcher deals with the way trauma can make monsters of people & make personal desires lead to monstrous consequences.

As TWN's looking for a money-making premise, saying "Ciri needs to avenge Falka because she was a victim of a witch hunt" is much easier than conveying that Ciri is dealing with severe trauma & is taken in by "friends" who've suffered similarly & also abuse her in similar ways.

As a result, Ciri loses her morals bc it's too tempting to start taking out her rage for being mistreated on everyone around her, including the innocents. If they have not hurt you yet, they will - so hurt them first! This is a trauma response. This is also Falka's legacy.

Further, Falka was not Ciri's ancestor. Making them blood-relatives in earnest & justifying Ciri's turn to the dark with that is at once a dumb simplification & ironic: it sets Ciri on a pre-determined path when the Witcher is ultimately about the choice between violence & love.

Ciri is not "avenging" Falka & Lara in a "you-go-girl" moment. Ciri's path of vengeance is a tragedy. She is trying to avenge herself as a wounded & traumatized person. With the consequences of her deeprooted needs & violent emotions being woeful, just as Lara Dorren's choices & actions were in the grand scheme of things.

Let's talk about Falka. It looks like Falka will be conveyed as a girlboss. Falka was not discriminated against bc she was a woman. Misogyny in her tale is present insofar as Vridank disowned her after having divorced Falka's mother because she was ugly.

Falka when she was wronged was not a "remarkable woman" & her father was not "afraid of her power" - she was 1y old when she was disowned. Her revenge on her father, half-siblings (including Riannon) & Cerro was about being abandoned & her title of Princess ripped away from her.

And Falka's rage at being stripped of her birthright & deprived of all legitimate power is an exact echo of Ciri's own ire. That is why Ciri eventually leaves the Rats - because she cannot stand the thought of an impostor becoming the Empress of Nilfgaard under her name.

Falka's tale as Ciri's is one of a child being deprived of love & parental guidance, of being exposed to violence & how it leads to the picking of monstrous means for dealing with their pain. It's not possession, it's not blood magic. It's the choices of people who are in pain.

The theme of a cycle of violence underlies the lives of Witcher's characters: Geralt's inability to deal w Visenna's abandonment, Yennefer killing her parents, Milva killing her father, etc. Instead TWN is simplifying again: men mistreat women, women get revenge; revenge good! Raar!

The Witcher is pretty clear on revenge not paying off. Revenge consumes & leads to parents & loved ones hanging in the gallows, burned on stakes. That is Falka's story & it's not one about emancipation. It's about how monsters are made.

A fate Geralt tried to protect Ciri from.

A/N: This is a summary of a discord discussion + thoughts in response to the description on the official Netflix website: “[Ciri] is the descendant of Lara Dorren and Falka: fierce, remarkable women who were swallowed up by the men afraid of their power. Women whom Ciri is destined to avenge.“

----

If you like my writing, consider buying me a coffee. Thanks! ❤️

#the witcher #twn #anti-twn #ciri #cirilla fiona elen riannon #falka #lara dorren #wiedźmin #the witcher books #the witcher netflix #elder blood

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xandriagreat · 2 months

Text

Fate Be Changed

Chapter 1: Prologue

First chapter | Next chapter

Author’s note: Just to let you all know, the story takes place in the early 2000s. This first chapter starts in the '80s. So it’s different from now (2024).

Notice/warnings: CAPs, crying, screaming/yelling, food/eating, teen pregnancy mentioned

▪▪▪

1983, April 17

The night sky was clear, fireflies flew in the air, cricket's sharp in the forest, the stars were a line and beautiful like sparkling skies, but behind the forest was a city, called Los Angeles.

It was bustling with skyscrapers and buildings, some run down apartments, streets being built, cars passing by and some cars honking.

There it was a wealthy neighborhood.

One of the buildings was some sort of penthouse that almost looked like a farm.

Inside was a little girl's room on the top floor, with a small toy farm with little toy farm animals, plushies of princesses, and action figures.

Diane sat with Emily Lou, Pam, and Ruby on the floor, listening to a bedtime story being told by Diane’s mother, Margaret Foxington, while fixing something on a dress.

Her mother was reading the tales of The Frog Prince to them.

Diane was playing with the skirt of her dress, waiting for the end of the story while Emily Lou, Pam, and Ruby were more into the story.

“Just at that moment, the ugly little frog looked up with his sad round eyes and pleaded; "Oh, please, dear princess! Only a kiss from you can break this terrible spell that was inflicted on me by a wicked witch.”” Margaret read from the story.

"Oh, no, not-" Diane said, shaking her head. Then she was cut off by Emily Lou covering her mouth with her hand.

“Please continue, Ms. Foxington.” Emily Lou said, looking at Margaret.

"Please quiet down." Pam whispered to them before looking back at Margaret.

Margaret chuckled softly at the kids before continuing reading, “So, The Princess picked up the Frog…leaned forward, raised him to her lips…AND kissed that little frog.”

The girl's nodded in different ways before Diane groaned and shook uncomfortably while Emily Lou and Pam awed as Ruby giggled.

"...Then the frog was transformed into a handsome prince. They were married and lived happily ever after." Margaret said, cutting the last of the string. "The end."

“Yay!” Emily Lou exclaimed, leaning back too far before falling over and giggling. “Read it again! Read it again!”

"Or another story!" Pam said, excited as she got up, jumping up and down.

“Please!” Ruby exclaimed like a plea.

Margaret chuckled softly, looking at a nearby clock. “Sorry girls. It’s almost time for your parents to come over and for Diane and I to go home.” Margaret said, closing the book and putting the sewing stuff away. “Say good night, Diane.”

Diane threw a bit of a tantrum and a huff. Even though she is six, she is a bit mature for her age, specifically once in story books.

"There is no way, in this whole wide world... I would ever, ever, ever I mean never kiss a frog or prince. Yuck!" Diane pouted, her arms crossed, with her tongue sticking out "There's no girl power! The princess wouldn't be a knight like the prince."

“Well the story is still great.” Ruby said, looking at Diane.

“Kissing a frog or any animal is gross!” Diane said with sass, crossing her arms across her chest. “Besides, magic isn't real! It's just a story teaching morals anyways.”

Diane had an unusual mind compared to her friends and she was able to see the story. But it was also her background. While she was wearing a handmade blue dress made from her mother. Her friends, Ruby wore a hand-me-down dress while Emily Lou and Pam wore fancy dresses.

But Diane managed to keep her cool by taking a deep breath.

Ruby pouted at that when Diane said ‘magic isn’t real’ and she started to cry.

Pam started to hug and comfort her as Diane felt bad.

“Oh, sorry about that, I didn't mean to say that.” Diane said, walking over the Ruby.

Ruby looks at Diane as she clings onto Pam.

Diane knew she didn't mean to do it in front of her.

Diane offered a hand to her.

Ruby looks at her hand for a moment before nodding. “Apology accepted.” she said, taking her hand and shaking it.

The two girls giggled as they finished shaking hands.

“Still, kissing a frog is gross! And I will never do it!” Diane exclaimed in disgust. “Bleh!”

"Is that so?" Emily Lou asked, a smirk on her face. Then she grabbed one of her dolls in a frog costume and started to chase Diane. "Here comes your prince charming, Dia! Come on, kiss the frog prince!"

Diane ran, playfully screaming and laughing as Emily Lou chased after her with the doll, since she just loved to tease her.

That made Ruby laugh at them as she stopped crying.

Pam rolled her eyes, letting go of Ruby and went to stop this. "Hey! Cut it out, Em!" Pam said, standing in front of Diane and taking the doll away from Emily Lou.

Emily Lou pouted sadly, wanting the doll back, which made Pam sighed. "She said she WON'T." Pam said, handing the doll back.

"I would do it." Emily Lou said, holding the doll close. "I would kiss a frog or any animal. I would kiss a hundred of them, if I could marry a prince or someone who would take me to my happily ever after."

"In your DREAMS." Diane scoffed, her arms crossed.

"Is that a challenge I hear?" Emily Lou asked with a smile.

“FIGHT!!!” Ruby shouted, pumping both fists in the air.

"You girls, cut it out!" Margaret said, walking over to them with her hands on her hips.

All four girls look at Margaret, calming down.

“Sorry, Ms. Foxington…” Ruby, Pam, and Emily Lou said together while Diane said, “Sorry mom….”

The bedroom door opened and in came Emily Lou’s father, who just came back from work from his late shift. “Hello, everyone.” he said, with a bright smile as he walked in.

"Good evening, Mr. Hogwild." Margaret said, nodding to him.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Emily Lou exclaimed as she rushed to her dad before pointing at the dress that Margaret fixed. “Look at the dress! Isn't it pretty?”

It was a repair of a tutu that Margaret was working on.

Mr. Hogwild chuckled softly as he picked up his daughter. “It is, Sugar.” he said, hugging her.

Margaret chuckled softly before she went to get both her and Diane’s coats.

“Now, Pam and Ruby,” Mr. Hogwild said, looking at the two other girls, who were looking at him. “Both of your parents called me and told me that you two can stay over tonight.”

It was probably because Pam's parents were working late and Ruby's mother was helping her grandmother move into a new home near La Puente.

"Lucky." Diane mumbled under her breath, looking at her friends.

Margaret was talking to Mr. Hogwild as Diane waited.

"And just to let you know, sir, noticing I already cooked up a lot of leftovers and sewed up the other clothes that you requested, including your daughter’s clothes." Margaret said to Mr. Hogwild, showing her hard work on some of the mannequins of Emily’s outfits, many dresses were princess-like dresses and mostly in all different shades of pink.

“Thank you, Margaret.” Mr. Hogwild said, nodding to her and looking at dresses.

Emmylou cheered as she looked at the new dresses

Margaret nodded back with a smile and then looked at her daughter. "Come along, Diane." she said to her daughter. "Your Dad should be home from work now."

“Okay, mommy.” Diane said, holding her mom’s hand as they went out.

◇

The Foxingtons got into their family 1976 Ford Thunderbird Model gray and Margaret started the car.

Diane watched through the window, looking at the different homes from the rich, poor, and middle class.

Then came the city lights then finally they made it back to their street, Burbank Boulevard.

They arrived home and saw Owen, Daine’s father and Margaret's husband, waiting for them on the porch.

Her parents were young when they had Diane at 18 years old. But they were from different races. Her mother being white and parents of German descent and her father black. Of course after getting pregnant by accident, they decided to keep her though they live in the middle class system. They did matter to get through and their lives were great, not minding that they’re in the middle class.

“Dad!” Daine said, running to him after getting out of the car. "Hey my little foxy cakes!" Owen said, hugging his precious daughter.

Diane giggled and nuzzled Owen as he picked her up. Margaret chuckled softly and went to them, hugging them before they went inside.

They began making dinner while Diane and Owen were reenacting Athena and Odysseus. Margaret went to work on the car while the two cooked and did the retelling.

"I have returned with my arrows and bow." Diane said, acting as Athena, with a pot over her head like a helmet and pretending that the salt and pepper shakers are the arrows and bow.

“It’s great to see you again.” Owen said, acting as Odysseus, with a cooking apron as the uniform.

Of course they were halfway done with cooking the dinner as they reenacted.

"The geese are gone and illegal." Diane said as they got the mushrooms on the cutting board. “Respect the labor workers and mash the mushrooms!"

“It’s minced mushrooms.” Owen corrected with a chuckle, starting to mince.

Diane laughed as they did it together.

Then they put the minced mushrooms in the cooking pan with other cooking cut vegetables.

Owen was close to sneaking some cinnamon in the vegetables but failed when Diane swiped it away.

"Nice try, Dad!" Diane said, putting the cinnamon away or more of trying to.

It slipped out of her hands just in time for her mother, who just got inside from finishing with the car. Margaret caught the cinnamon and shook her head. "Sorry, sir you are going to food jail." she said with a chuckle, pointing to the table.

Owen pouted but shrugged. “Fine. But it needs a pinch.” he said to them, before he went to a seat at the table.

Diane sighs as Margaret adds a pinch of cinnamon after washing her hands. "Sometimes you have to break the rules." Margaret said, putting the cinnamon away.

They all began to laugh as they finished cooking.

Their home was always filled with laughter and joy. Though they tried to make ends meet. Even though they were able to live enough, comfortable enough home, they were happy as a family.

◇

When dinner was packed and ready to go, The Foxingtons went out to the potluck.

They had a great time at the potluck.

Everyone from the neighborhood was there.

Some kids playing around while some of the adults talking and even some servers serving food.

Diane's family sets their food on the table as Diane looks around at the other kids.

She didn't mind playing for a bit but then Diane noticed some homeless people being hungry and living in a station wagon that was near the potluck.

“Hey, Mom, Dad.” Diane started, getting her parents’ attention.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Owen asked.

“Since we normally have some of the food leftovers from the potluck…” Diane said “Maybe we can give some to those in need!"

The parents looked at each other and then nodded their heads.

“We can do that before we go home, ok?” Owen said.

Margaret nodded, seeing the homeless people that Diane was talking about.

“Ok…” Diane sighed, nodding in understanding.

When the potluck was over and as everyone left to go home, the Foxingtons went to the station wagon.

"Hey everyone!" Diane said, getting everyone’s attention as they got there. "Me and my family made vegan foie gras!"

Some homeless people started lining up getting their hands on a plate of the vegan foie gras.

Diane’s parents knew they taught their daughter well about putting others first before her own.

The Foxingtons will often give some of the leftover food from the potluck for the homeless because of their kindness and giving away any leftovers.

Hence why they were normally the only family left when the potluck was over.

◇Later that night◇

When the Foxingtions got home, they did their bath time routine and then Diane’s parents helped her get ready for bed. When they made it into her cute bedroom, which is unique for a six-year-old.

It was almost like a bit of a middle-schooler room but was cheerful like the child she is. There was a bookshelf with her books, but in separate corners, one for home and one from the library. She had some posters of her favorite cartoon characters but some historical figures, and inspirational posters. Almost like a teacher's room, but her bed, though big for her age, was perfect for her meaning she'll grow in it.

"You know the thing about being hard working and being selfless? It brings people together from all walks of life, regardless of who they are and where they come from. It warms them right up and it puts little smiles on their faces. And you have the spark of a strong independent woman, I tell you, people are gonna line up for miles around, just to get a look and see the future that you can do." Owen said, smiling softly at her as he held her.

"If we work hard…" Diane said, beginning to say the usual phase and smiling at her parents. "We… We can reach the moon!"

Then she begins pretending to whoosh like a rocket ship going up into space. Diane had an active imagination like any other kid, even though sometimes she is a bit more grounded.

“That’s right.” Owen chuckled as he was about to get Diane into bed.

But then Diane saw something out her window, making her gasp excitedly. "Daddy, Mommy! look!" Diane said, getting out of bed and going to a window.

"Where are you going?" Owen asked, following where his daughter was going along with his wife.

Diane pointed out her window and all three saw beautiful shooting stars.

"I remember in one of my friends' fairy tale books it said if you make a wish on a shooting star it should come true!" Diane said in the most childhood-like wonder in her eyes.

"Or leave a coin to the well or break a wishbone." Margaret chuckled softly, rubbing her daughter’s back gently.

“Yeah!” Diane giggled, still looking at the starry sky.

Then the couple look at each other knowing what they have to do, to let their daughter be grounded while having high hopes.

"Diane, before you go to bed, your father and I want to give you something." Margaret said, leading their daughter to her bed.

“What is it?” Diane asked, getting on her bed as Owen went out of the room.

“A gift.” Margaret said, smiling softly.

Owen came back a few minutes later with two wrapped presents. The other on the left with her mother was green with black polka dots and a pretty pink bow and ribbon. The right wither father had a gray color with blue stripes and a red ribbon and bow

"We were going to save it until you're 10 but maybe you are ready to see the photos." Margaret said, sitting on the bed.

Diane looked at both of her parents before opening the gifts.

There are two portraits of two women from very different times.

The first one looks like a white woman wearing a male's uniform and male cut hair, giving a salute alongside the man and in front of an American flag. It looked like it was taken around World War 1.

The other photo was of a black woman wearing a soldier uniform of World War 2. She had chopped up curly hair, holding a gun part of the US.

"These were all your great grandparents' and grandma’s portraits." Margaret said, pointing at the photos.

Diane nodded and noticed there was something writing in both the pictures.

This is life and this is your chance to write your own story

“What does this mean?” Diane asked, pointing at the writing.

"Look, sometimes this world can be a pretty cruel place… They could be mean and not selfless… Of course, the third time even now was full of prejudice everywhere" Owen said, sighing sadly.

"But… as time changes and we keep moving forward to a better future but with a lot of hard work and a lot of progress you can make the world a better place and it's your job to write your history. You can write your own story." Margaret said, smiling softly as she held both her husband and daughter’s hands.

"And then… Yeah you can do anything you said you mind to. Just promise your family one thing? That you’ll never, ever lose sign of what is really important." Owen said, holding and rubbing Daine’s hand. “Okay?”

Diane nodded. “I promise.”

"See you in the morning, foxy cakes. Get some sleep." Margaret said, tucking Diane in bed.

Diane giggled as she laid down in her bed.

“Good night, foxy cakes.” Owen whispered as he kissed her forehead.

Diane closed her eyes as her parents left the room, turning off the lights. But when the door closed, Diane got up and got a book about strong female women along with the portraits of her grandmothers and looking at the shooting stars.

“Please. Please. Please.” the little girl whispered, wishing on the shooting stars.

When the shooting stars were gone, Diane started hearing the howls. She looked at her window and recognized a wolf nearby from the woods from her backyard.

Diane began to scream loudly, closing the window, and she hopped off the bed, slamming the door of her room and ran to her parents room.

She stayed with her parents for the night, which her parents didn’t mind.

#the bad guys #Fate Be Changed #the bad guys au #diane foxington #pam kitty cat #emily lou hogwild #ruby redd #the bad guys fic #Margaret foxington #Owen foxington

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rockislandadultreads · 1 year

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Read-Alike Friday: Atalanta by Jennifer Saint

The Witch’s Heart by Genevieve Gornichec

Angrboda's story begins where most witches' tales end: with a burning. A punishment from Odin for refusing to provide him with knowledge of the future, the fire leaves Angrboda injured and powerless, and she flees into the farthest reaches of a remote forest. There she is found by a man who reveals himself to be Loki, and her initial distrust of him transforms into a deep and abiding love.

Their union produces three unusual children, each with a secret destiny, who Angrboda is keen to raise at the edge of the world, safely hidden from Odin's all-seeing eye. But as Angrboda slowly recovers her prophetic powers, she learns that her blissful life—and possibly all of existence—is in danger.

With help from the fierce huntress Skadi, with whom she shares a growing bond, Angrboda must choose whether she’ll accept the fate that she's foreseen for her beloved family…or rise to remake their future. From the most ancient of tales this novel forges a story of love, loss, and hope for the modern age.

Ithaca by Clarie North

Seventeen years ago, King Odysseus sailed to war with Troy, taking with him every man of fighting age from the island of Ithaca. None of them has returned, and the women of Ithaca have been left behind to run the kingdom.

Penelope was barely into womanhood when she wed Odysseus. While he lived, her position was secure. But now, years on, speculation is mounting that her husband is dead, and suitors are beginning to knock at her door.

No one man is strong enough to claim Odysseus' empty throne—not yet. But everyone waits for the balance of power to tip, and Penelope knows that any choice she makes could plunge Ithaca into bloody civil war. Only through cunning, wit, and her trusted circle of maids, can she maintain the tenuous peace needed for the kingdom to survive.

This is the first volume in “The Songs of Penelope” series.

Phaedra by Laura Shepperson

Phaedra has been cast to the side all her life: daughter of an adulteress, sister of a monster, and now unwilling bride to the much-older, power-hungry Theseus. Young, naïve, and idealistic, she has accepted her lot in life, resigned to existing under the sinister weight of Theseus’s control and the constant watchful eye of her handsome stepson Hippolytus.

When supposedly pious Hippolytus assaults her, Phaedra’s world is darkened in the face of untouchable, prideful power. In the face of injustice, Phaedra refuses to remain quiet any longer: such an awful truth demands to be brought to light. When Phaedra publicly accuses Hippolytus of rape, she sparks an overdue reckoning.

The men of Athens gather to determine the truth. Meanwhile, the women of the city, who have no vote, are gathering in the shadows. The women know truth is a slippery thing in the hands of men. There are two sides to every story, and theirs has gone unheard. Until now.

Daughter of the Moon Goddess by Sue Lynn Tan

This is the first volume in “The Celestial Kingdom Duology” series.

#fiction #mythology #fantasy #Retellings #Library Books #Book Recommendations #book recs #Reading Recs #reading recommendations #TBR pile #tbr #tbrpile #to read #Want To Read #Booklr #book tumblr #book blog #library blog

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