#“men are historically fair and just” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bigtedbear · 8 months ago

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" 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 "

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: 𝐡𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐨 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧, 𝐡𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐨 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧, 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐥𝐥?

content warnings: male reader, comfort/hurt/comfort, two old men, SFW, ill/chronically ill reader, misunderstood feelings, fontaine story quest spoilers!!!, Furina is the same gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss, bear with me theyre in love they're just doomed by the narrative

clarification: case of collywobbles translates roughly to a case of butterflies in the stomach

the plan for this chapter changed as I was writing it and the title of the chapter became basically irrelevant BUT i still think it's fitting

" welcome back, caller @yuri1306! connecting your line as we speak... "

*dramatic drumroll*

hey guys it's finally out

A fair warning to all my returning readers: this may not be my best work, I'll be the first to admit that a lot of this was impeded by my writers block and I really needed to just push this out to get past it

many apologizes to @yuri1306 I did my best to try and encapsulate the entirety of your request my creative flow was not creatively flowing as well as it usually does :(((

That being said I don't think it's bad!!!

I still hope you all enjoy <33

“She really is quite something, is she not?”

Neuvillette’s head pivoted to turn to the new voice. Unfamiliar at best, intimidating at worst.

Furina de Fontaine’s inaugural speech; a historic moment and a moment none in attendance were soon to forget.

Yet, instead of flocking to the stage to request audience with Focalors herself, you were here.

You lagged behind the crowd.

You chose to speak with Neuvillette instead.

In accordance with social etiquette, he wiped the suspicious look off of his face. “She is confident, assertive. She has done well in establishing a name for herself in a social setting as brutal as the court.”

You hummed, resting both palms on the intricate cane you’d chosen to accessorize yourself with. “It’s a shame in all actuality. She would have done better to take the harsh critique of the first half of her speech. I would much prefer to see a face of humility and honesty leading the nation of justice.”

Neuvillette did not respond.

The silence was supposedly uncomfortable, and yet the regular churning nausea of awkward tension didn’t seem to constrict the Iudex’s airway.

Carefully, you peeled a gloved hand from the handle of your cane. You offered it to the judge politely.

Cautiously, he gripped it in his own hand before giving it a simple shake.

“I am [name], I have been appointed to serve as the acting chief advisor of Fontaine. It is a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Neuvillette.”

“How did you-”

You raised a brow curiously, looking at the large crowd of people before looking back to the other man still currently holding your hand in his own. “...forgive my cheek when I say this, Monsieur, but it truly isn’t difficult to pick you out of a crowd. I must say, your predecessor didn’t mince his words when it came to describing your appearance, you are exactly as he described.”

Even as you hid the amused expression stretching the lower half of your face behind your fingers, the red tainting his otherwise pale skin was not as easily disguised. Still, even in the face of his unmistakable embarrassment, he did his best to steer the conversation elsewhere. “You’ve spoken to him?”

You nodded, resting a hand on your cane. “For someone as old as I am, I have my connections.” You gestured towards the stage, “Lest another have been chosen for this position.”

Another silence settled between the two of you.

He coughed into his fist, volume diminishing as he asked, “My predecessor, he didn’t… speak poorly of me, did he?”

He watched your expression twist with mirth, eyes glinting with poorly veiled amusement. “No, nothing of the sort. You can rest assured he was nothing but kind towards you.” You paused, leaning on your cane as you seemed to think on your words, “Well, at the very least, he wasn’t cruel. I’m sure you of all people know he’s become far too short-tempered for pleasantries.”

Neuvillette sighed, posture deflating just the slightest bit.

It was impossible to miss the chuckle that escaped at his expense. “In the very least, you were spared the worst of mentors. I’ve heard that one of the remaining Adepti seems intent on meddling in their apprentice’s love lives.”

“You can’t be serious,” the other man responded.

“Oh, completely serious,” You gestured for him to follow you out into the lobby; there was far less crowding, “I felt so terribly for the young woman last I made the journey to Liyue. If you were to ask my opinion on the matter, Xianyun is far in over her head trying to meddle in the affairs of young love.”

He blinked, “Xianyun?”

You hummed, placing a contemplative hand under your chin. “You’ve never left the boundaries of Fontaine, have you?”

He shook his head.

“Her Adeptal name is Cloud Retainer, aside from that, she is referred to by the name Xianyun. She has currently taken on an apprentice in the shape of a young half-human half-adeptus,” you explained, trailing up the steps to and from the large theater. “Ganyu has a very sweet temperament, but it seems as her master attempts to push further into her personal affairs, the further she’s moving to get away from her.”

Neuvillette nodded his head, tentatively following your lead away from the large crowd. “Is this related to why you are treating Lady Furina in a similar manner?”

You paused, looking towards him. “Oh, not in the slightest.”

You could see the confusion growing further onto his face. You snickered behind your glove again, turning your back to continue trailing up the stairs.

Still, he followed you up the countless steps towards the lobby. “I see… I suppose I’m having trouble understanding why you wouldn’t be at Lady Furina’s side in a moment like this.”

You hummed, “Well, the hydro archon has already made her bed, I can do nothing but allow her to lay in it.”

“I’m… not following.”

You tapped your cane on the floor pointedly, “Well, Focalors has many plans to set in motion. I play both a pivotal role in the production myself, but as of now, my only obligation is to play the role of a spectator.”

Neuvillette’s brows furrowed. “...Has she asked you to be away from her in these moments?”

You shook your head. “Not directly. But upon watching her grand performance upon the equally grand stage, what choice am I left with?” You pushed open the door to the lobby with one hand, pressing your back against it to allow Neuvillette to cross the threshold first. “Lady Furina has portrayed herself as the almighty, someone completely untouchable by the likes of man or any other power.”

“Are you upset by her decision to do so?” The Iudex inquired, gripping his own cane closer to his chest.

You shook your head, "Not at all. But let’s think for a moment what it would look like if the moment she steps off the stage, all questions are instead directed to her advisor.” You followed after him in the next breath, trailing towards the entrance to the grand theater. “In most scenarios, her all-powerful archon of justice is immediately crumpled in the eyes of the common person.”

“...”

You shrugged, “At least, when I put myself in the shoes of the lay person, I am not fooled. She can put on as grand an act as she wishes on the stage, but when she is no longer in a space that is built for a performance, the reality behind the facade is suddenly revealed. If Furina de Fontaine really is all knowing and all knowledgeable, why would she need to hide behind her advisor in the face of questions?”

Neuvillette almost audibly heard something click in his brain. “You are staying away so she can better maintain her image?” He pushed the door to the Epiclese open, welcoming in the sunlight.

You snapped your fingers, “Correct!” You dusted your shoulder off as you passed through the door. “She MUST rely on herself. There is no glancing to the sidelines for reassurance or answers, this solution removes all distractions.”

The Iudex nodded, thoughtful. “I believe I’m beginning to understand.”

“I’m glad,” you took in a deep breath of air as you began to make the long trek towards the Fountain of Lucine,

“We are, of course, going to be working together for a very long time.”

“I figured I would find you here.”

Against the noise of rain pelting against his back, the Iudex lifted his head from his contemplative stupor.

The dreary grays of the backdrop seemed to melt together similarly to how his thoughts slowly blended together to form one big amalgamated lump. Still, in spite of the hail Mary of all storms boring holes into the fabric of your umbrella, you stood face to face with him in the rain.

“...”

He gave a half-hearted sigh, any coherent thought swimming in the puddles sloshing against the bottoms of his shoes.

“Why are you out?”

You didn’t answer to start with. He didn’t know if it was because you were thinking over your words or if it was because you couldn’t hear him over the sound of water against the pavement.

“Well, why are you out?”

Answering a question with another question; typical.

“I am troubled.”

You hummed, moving your umbrella off your shoulder. You held it between the two of you, equidistant so it’d stop the rain pouring all over the other man’s handsome features.

“Troubled about what, Neuvillette?”

The skin between his brows creased as he tried to come up with a good answer.

He was a judge, someone that is meant to be completely unbiased in the face of the law. He is to hear a case, come to the correct conclusion, and be able to live with himself at the end of the day.

“A case.”

You waited…

…and waited…

…and then waited some more.

“...a case?” You tilted your head to the side.

Neuvillette struggled to hold eye contact, letting his gaze drop to the rising flood. “It was a case of theft, a single mother.”

You gave a knowing hum. “I see. Have you come to the conundrum of justice versus fairness?”

Again, you waited on a response.

“...It isn’t so much that I haven’t seen cases like this before, it was something about the desperation on her face as she begged for leniency I was unable to grant her.”

You nodded again. “Still, am I correct to assume you have come to the moral dilemma of fairness versus justice?”

His frown only deepened. “I do not understand what you mean.”

You poked a finger to your temple, “Well, logically, you are aware that theft is a crime. You know that it is just and correct to dole out a sentence for a crime."

“...”

You poked him in the chest, “But you feel like the sentence is unfair because she had no other choice.”

“...”

“You, as the Iudex, are unable to give her leniency because she committed a crime, but your heart wants to right the injustices she and her child are forced to endure,” You gestured towards the streets. “The Court of Fontaine rarely sees those less fortunate unless they are begging. Despite being the ones in charge, those in the Court are shielded from the problems of the common person. You aren’t used to seeing someone in a situation where crimes become a necessity.”

“...I suppose I am not.”

You nodded again, “You see her, you hear her cries, you know her reasons, and yet, as a judge, you are unable to save her. You must be wondering, why is that?”

Like a lost puppy, Neuvillette’s head bobbed up and down.

"I’m afraid, I cannot answer,” You reached into your breast pocket, blindly searching for your pocket watch. “We can only have faith that the system will work in its due time. Pray that the Fortress of Meropide treats her well, ask of Focalors to look over the poor child in the House of the Hearth.”

“...”

The corner of your lips quirked up in a smile. “What can be considered a misfortune can actually be a blessing in disguise.”

Neuvillette tilted his head to the side.

You gestured to the falling water, “Rain may be commonplace in Fontaine, but in areas of Teyvat, rain is so rare it’s considered a sign or blessing.”

“...That may be so.”

You adjusted your grasp on the umbrella. “I am not originally from Fontaine. Where I am from, rainfall this heavy would be considered a wonderful blessing.”

“...”

You waited for a response from him. However, he didn’t seem to have one to give.

“...”

You reached a hand out to him.

He stared at it for a moment.

You did your best to smile.

“What is this for?”

“Well,” you began, “You seem to be in low spirits. I thought perhaps I would do my best to help shift your perspective. There will be no convincing you unless there is some kind of change of pace.”

He frowned. “Do you intend to lead me somewhere?”

You shook your head.

“...Well, what do you intend to do in any case?”

You gestured to the water cascading down the sides of the plastic umbrella, “I want to celebrate a bountiful rain.”

His sour expression only seemed to deepen as he looked around. “I don’t understand what there is to celebrate. We are in Fontaine. Rain is an impediment to daily life.”

You sighed, “Well, I want to help reframe your thoughts.” You pointed to him, “Your perspective on the rain is inherently negative. You believe it’s nothing but a nuisance.”

“...”

You placed a hand over your heart, “It might have been a while since I’ve made a trip home, but still, everytime the rain is plentiful, it brings a smile to my face.”

Once again, he didn’t respond. Wordlessly, his gloved hand slipped into your own.

Tentatively, you dropped the umbrella to the ground, facing the full wrath of the droplets soaking into your expensive suit.

Immediately, Neuvillette’s face twisted in alarm.

Still, you took his other hand in your own, beginning the steps to the traditional Fontainian Waltz.

His mouth opened to speak, but it seemed without the shield of the umbrella, you couldn’t hear the sound of his protests. Instead, you dropped one of his hands to bring him into a messy twirl.

He flailed awkwardly for a moment, cheeks lighting up a red hue as he did his best not to slip on the wet bricks. It was more than obvious he was used to dancing the lead. Even in his embarrassment, it seemed he didn’t have the heart to stop you.

At the sound of a jovial laugh, even as the sky cried around the two of you, he felt his burning cheeks begin to light up in flames.

Slowly, but surely, the clouds began to part.

Another twirl, a few more shuffling paces, a misstep from him, more snickers at his expense.

Another handful of steps, and this time he would be the one to twirl you around.

It seemed time melded into a loop, nothing more than a concept that happened to slip your mind. The rain dissipated to nothing more than a fond memory.

As the dance came to a close, you coughed into the palm of your glove, trying to clear your throat. “Are you feeling any better now, Monsieur Neuvillette?”

“Just Neuvillette. Monsieur feels much too formal.”

Your polite smile stretched upwards just a little more as your shoes created little ripples in the surface of the unnaturally large puddles. “I’ll take it that you are feeling better, then?”

“Much. Thank you.”

You nodded again, “Well, I want to continue our discussion from earlier–about the mother and her upcoming sentence.”

“...hm?”

You chuckled, “Did you forget already?”

He shook his head, “Of course not!” He tapped his cane against the ground, “It’s simply the fact I lack understanding for why you are bringing up the subject again.”

You hummed, playfully incredulous. “Yes, yes, anyways, let me make my point,” You cleared your throat once again, “Think of her sentence as a new beginning for both her and her child. The Fortress of Meropide is by no means a kind place, but it is no crueler than the same streets that forced her to become a thief in the first place.”

He tucked an arm behind his back.

“Just as you viewed the rain as a nuisance, she views her sentence as a punishment. In reality, I believe the situation is a blessing in disguise,” You made a circular motion with your wrist, “Both her and her child will be cared for by their respective shelters. She will have a job to occupy her time, a source of income, and her and her child will go to sleep in a warm bed, well fed. Mother and son are only going to be separated for a short period of time, hopefully when they are reunited, the mother will have found steady employment in the Fortress.”

“Your health is beginning to get worse.”

Your eyes trailed behind you. “I'm surprised you noticed, my Lady. You've been busy as of late.”

Furina clicked her tongue, shaking her head dismissively. “What kind of archon would I be if I was not aware of my personal retainer’s health? You underestimate me.”

You rolled your eyes, flicking her nose affectionately. “I am your advisor, not your retainer nor your assistant. I am aware of your struggles, you don't need to pretend when it's just the two of us.”

Her cheeks puffed up angrily, rubbing the red blurb on her face. “Even if nobody is around, that doesn't mean you can embarrass me!”

You reached into your pocket to pull out a handkerchief, laughter turning into coughing behind a palm. You held the cloth over your mouth, feeling much too weak and pitiful for your own good. “Apologies, Lady Furina,” you sputtered out, “I will refrain from putting you in such a position in the future.”

She huffed, turning up her nose. “I expect nothing less from you.”

You took a deep breath, wiping your face with your kerchief. Stilling your breathing, you gave a cursory glance at the “Hydro Archon”. After so long of suffering, it pained you to know that she was indeed so far away from the finish line. “My Lady, I am afraid my time may come sooner rather than later.”

Her eyes widened. “You can't mean you're...”

You shook your head, doing your best to suppress another laugh for the sake of your throat, “No! Gods, no. I am anything but fragile, I will make it perfectly fine.”

She let out a groan, immediately taking to beating on your arm indignantly. “You infidel! You made me believe you were going to pass away! How cruel!”

You shielded yourself from her attacks playfully, backing up and raising your hands to stop her, “How terrible, Furina! You're attacking a sick man in broad daylight!”

She let another irritated groan slip, smacking your arm once more, “Only because you attacked me first!”

You cocked your head to the side, “I did not!”

“Did too!” She pointed an accusatory finger, “You attacked my emotional wellbeing! How was I supposed to be able to recover from the death of my most treasured advisor?”

You placed a hand over your heart, “You mean it, my lady?”

Her cheeks puffed up again, swelling a brilliant claret. She only grew more incensed as you continued to poke at her. Though, instead of using your words, your failure to quash a smile was more than enough to provoke her.

Still, as the merciful and benevolent archon she was, she pardoned your sins.

She crossed her arms, “When are you leaving?”

“Leaving?”

You felt a prick of anxiety inject its way into your nervous system. “Ah, Neuvillette, how lovely to see you again.”

Furina also paused in her tracks at the familiar voice. She remained silent.

“A pleasure to meet your acquaintance again, Lady Furina, [name],” he offered out a hand for you to shake. Hastily, you tucked your handkerchief in your breast pocket. “What is this about leaving?”

You took his hand in your own, “Nothing drastic, simply an appointment I must be on time for. Regrettably, I will be unable to spectate the proceedings of today’s trial.”

Neuvillette nodded, “I see. There will always be the archives in my office in case you'd like to catch up with the case material at any point.”

You nodded, humming with a courteous smile. “Perhaps I will take you up on that offer.”

Furina finally took the chance to speak up, “You have yet to answer my question, Monsieur. As your superior, I believe I am privy to such information.”

You diverted your attention from Neuvillette, pondering for a moment. “Around 15:00? I believe that should be ample time to make my appointment.”

Neuvillette perked up immediately, “Ah, is this in regards to your cough?”

Nodding, you turned your attention to the Grand Theatre, “Unfortunately it is. Usually, I would've recovered by this point, but because it's persisting I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands.”

Furina pulled her own small pocketwatch from where it was stashed. It popped open with a quiet, ‘click!’ “It seems we’ll have to cut this chance meeting short, Guests will be arriving soon for the trial.”

Neuvillette nodded, “I suppose we should be heading inside to take our seats,” He made a vague motion with a gloved hand, “Shall we?”

“Furina, would you be so kind as to allow us a moment alone?” She cocked her head to the side at your suggestion, but she relented.

“Alright, but before I leave, can I request just one thing?” She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

Dutifully, you nodded.

She beckoned you closer with a finger.

It was your turn to raise a brow at her.

Still, you leaned in.

She tugged on your sleeve.

You leaned in even further.

“Come back in one piece,” she whispered, pinching the shell of your ear.

You gave a yelp as you tugged your head away from her assaulting fingers, rubbing the new crescent marks her nails left behind. “Now, was that really necessary, my Lady?”

She gave a triumphant smile, though you could tell by the way it wilted at the corners, she was less than thrilled. She placed a hand over her heart, giving her signature bow, “Perfectly necessary. Now, allow me to excuse myself.” Still, as she stood, she pointed an accusatory finger, “Keep this brief, after all Monsieur Neuvillette has a trial to preside over.”

“Of course,” you placed a hand over your own heart, mirroring her as you lowered your head, “I wouldn't dream of delaying any proceedings.”

She allowed herself one more parting glance before scampering off into the building to take her seat.

Watching her figure disappear, you finally returned your gaze back to Neuvillette. You coughed into your fist, trying to alleviate the pressure in your trachea. He only observed you silently.

“Neuvillette?”

“Yes?”

“Take a walk with me,” regretfully, you tacked on, “I'd enjoy your company one last time.”

It was unlike such a building to be so quiet. Still, given the hour, the Palais Mermonia lay dormant.

Only the Iudex and his retainer remained. Despite his more than spacious residential quarters, his chambers were too restrictive on this night in particular. They felt empty. They felt devoid of something, he just didn't know what.

So, instead of sleeping, he found himself running his hand along the cold marble walls. Trailing the corridor without a particular destination in mind, the candle in his other hand flickered and cast its shadow against the dark. It dawned on Neuvillette that he truly neglected the rest of his home the longer he walked. A vast dining hall, an equally large kitchen, a comically extensive library; all completely left to rot as he worked himself to death.

As he reached his hand to turn the knob of another door, he felt a sense of trepidation wash over him. One that wasn't present when he entered any of the other rooms.

Why?

…

He didn't know.

He let his grip lay slack on the handle for another moment while he wracked his brain for any ideas. What was this room? Had he been here before? Why could he feel his hand shaking?

Finally, he put those thoughts out of his mind when the lock clicked open and the wooden door swung open with a loud ‘creeeaaakkkk’.

‘Ah,’ he realized, ‘This was one of his rooms.’

A grand study, unchanged by time, greeted him. It was as if you'd never left. Sprawling bookshelves climbing up each wall, ladders haphazardly laid to lean on the dusty spines of forgotten books. An even larger than life desk at the far end, spotted with unsigned paperwork and long dried up ink pots. Even sadder, a single lamplight lily wilted in its pot at the corner of your desk.

He felt his heart crumble when he realized he had been the one to put it there.

The little makeshift lounge was equally well-preserved. A porcelain tea set he remembered so fondly collected dust at the center of the coffee table. Your favorite book lay across the arm of your favorite cushioned seat, a pressed flower bookmark denoting where you'd left off.

Neuvillette was almost tempted to pick up the novel himself, but he was afraid of two things. One, he didn't want to ruin this serenity, this moment frozen in time. Two, he didn't know if the book would actually hold itself together based on its age.

The armchair groaned as Neuvillette rested his weight on it. He felt a little bit like a loser, sitting alone in the middle of an empty room. Especially because the longer he sat, the more alone he felt. How long had it been since you invited him into your study like this? Could he even remember? It'd been around a century since you'd left…

…or had it been longer?

It only seemed to homogenize and blur the more he tried to remember. Years were starting to look more and more like the last the longer his monotonous life droned on.

It was so bad he couldn't remember how long ago it was he saw your face, but he remembered it. He definitely remembered what had been said.

'“Since you're needed elsewhere, I'm afraid much of what I want to say will go unsaid.”

“What do you mean?”

“I apologize for trying to deceive you, I truly am sorry,” you tapped your cane against the ground, “I was so close to getting away with it, too.”

“Deceiving me?” His expression shifted, “About what?”

“I’m leaving, yes,” You sighed, “But I'm afraid I won't be coming back.”

It felt like his heart stopped completely.

“I didn't want to drag you into matters that were already settled between myself and Focalors, but I know how you feel about me,” you awkwardly switched the hand gripping your cane, “When I thought about how devastated you'd be when you'd learned I'd lied to you, I decided I had to tell you.”

“But why?” Neuvillette asked, “Why would you only tell me now?”

A grimace overtook your features as the skies began to softly weep his sorrows, “You mustn't cry Neuvillette, Fontaine will need your strength now more than ever.”

“Do you really expect me to be strong in a moment like this? Am I not allowed to mourn?” He went to reach for your face, but his arm fell back to his side dejectedly. “You really won't be returning?”

“Knowing what I must do, I also know it will be the last of me.”

“Do you really need to leave today?” The Iudex grappled for some kind of opportunity, “Just one day, if I can have that, I can make peace with this.”

You shook your head, “I've put this off for too long already, I was afraid Fontaine wouldn't be ready for me to leave, I was even more afraid Furina wouldn't be able to continue on without me.”

“Not even a day?”

“I've made up my mind.” You finally let yourself rest a gloved hand on his cheek, watching his posture deflate while he leaned into your touch, “I'm eager to make this sacrifice for Fontaine, but I'm less than eager to leave you behind.”

“Why must you be the one to do it?” His voice came out like a whisper.

“I can't tell you,” you brushed your thumb across his cheek, wiping the rain away from his eyes, “But I want you to know before I am gone that you were loved, Neuvillette. I loved you, and I will die loving you.”

“Don't say that, please, don't say that.”

“Then, can I ask a favor of you?”

“Anything, anything I can offer.”

You smiled, “Take care of Furina, and take care of Fontaine.”’

How cruel, Neuvillette thought.

How cruel for Furina to leave him such a painful reminder this close to the very bed he slept in every night.

How awful for her to keep her hopes up when Neuvillette knew you wouldn’t return.

After all, what other reason would there be for her to keep your office so well maintained, so perfectly preserved and untouched.

It felt like Neuvillette was sitting in an empty tomb.

The wooden legs of the chair shrieked against the tile of the floor in the deafeningly silent study. He didn’t know where his feet were taking him, but he couldn’t decide on whether he wanted to leave or if he needed to stay longer.

Still, he paused in front of your former desk.

He didn't know why.

He also didn't know why he sat down in your nice leather office chair, rolling himself in so he could rest his head on the cool wooden desktop.

He didn't know why he was disappointed it didn't smell like you anymore. Of course it didn't smell like you, it'd been at least a hundred years since you were here. But maybe if he dug deep into his memories, he could pretend it did.

If he had gotten to have just one day, he could've made peace with your passing.

But how do you say goodbye to someone you considered to be your forever in just a few short moments?

Neuvillette couldn't come up with a good answer before he fell asleep again.

“Tall, lean, and emaciated. It was entirely unexpected for him to wake up at all.”

Furina clicked her tongue, dismissively. “I may not be the Hydro Archon any longer, but that doesn't mean you are allowed to freely criticize me. I asked to see him, I care not what state he's in.”

The attendant bowed stiffly, shoulders scrunched up. “I-I apologize, my lady,” He stammered, “I was unaware of what your intentions in meeting up with this man were, I believed his physical condition to be-”

She gave an irritated huff, puffing up her chest to express her discontent. Instantly, the man’s jaw snapped shut. She waved her hand. When the attendant didn't move, she waved her hand again.

Still, he didn't move.

“Helloooo? Do you have any idea what's going on?” Her expression shifted to be entirely displeased, “You are dismissed.”

“O-Oh!”

She watched the man scurry off like a sad puppy with its tail between its legs.

Finally, she turned her attention to the rather large door to the private room tucked away inside the infirmary of the Fortress of Meropide. She was left alone with her thoughts. Consequently, she could now focus on the nerves creeping up her spine.

It had been a month since the prophecy had been fulfilled, since she had saved the entirety of Fontaine.

She was free to be Furina now, free from her duties as the human half of Focalors.

It was exactly why she felt so confused about her anxiety of whatever lay beyond this door.

Her hands were clammy, her breathing accelerating. Her vision was starting to swim, and oh archons, was that a stress migraine brewing? For all the hard work she put into this, she didn't seem to be feeling the payoff.

But she couldn't be thinking like that now!

Instead of letting her doubts and worries consume her, she placed a shaky hand to the cold metal handle. Her movements were unsure as she wrapped her fingers around the bar. It felt like all the strength in her arm evaporated the longer she held onto the handle without doing anything.

So she used what little strength was left to sharply tug the door open.

"..."

“Furina?”

"..."

By the gods.

“Furina-” the voice was an exhausted rasp, “You have to tell me the seal didn't break, the prophecy didn't happen, I can't have failed-”

Her mouth opened to reassure you everything was fine, but the next moment her lips were curling as she tried to bite back a sniffle.

You took this to mean the worst, eyebrows curling upward in despair. A shaky hand reached towards your face, layering over your mouth.

Still, even when seeing you so worried and disappointed in yourself, she couldn't bring herself to cough up any words of affirmation.

'You didn't fail! Everyone was saved!’ she wanted to scream.

But instead she took a shaky first step over to the terribly thin cot you were situated on. Her arm absentmindedly raised to reach toward you.

“No, no, no, no, no-” Your hand raked through your already disheveled hair.

She took another step.

You pressed your hands together, hands clasped tight as you looked to the skies above, “I'm sorry, Egeria, Focalors, I promised I would- I swore-”

She began to walk.

“I promised Fontaine would be in good hands- I never meant to lie to you, Archons above if you may hear, forgive me-”

She could feel her own tears begin to slide down her cheeks as she watched you begin to openly weep, to pray and beg for some kind of mercy you did not need. She felt like a bag of bones as she took a seat next to you on the edge of the cot.

Your attention finally snapped to her, “Furina, my darling Furina, to you I am the most sorry-” You took a gasping breath, chest shaking as you heaved out another weak cry, “You have suffered in silence for centuries without me and I was unable to do the very least I promised to you-”

Her arm felt equally weightless when you picked up one of her limp hands to wrap up in your larger palms. Before you could continue to beg for forgiveness, her facial features twisted into just the smallest smile.

You almost didn't notice it until she started laughing.

With a renewed vigor, she wrapped her other hand around one of yours. Tears of relief streaming down her face, she all but shouted a victory cry in the middle of the quiet infirmary room, “We did it! We really did it! You don't need to be forgiven because we did it!”

As she celebrated, her happy tears flowed down her face, you didn't know how to respond at all.

“We… did it?”

She nodded quickly, all but shaking. “Yes, it's over, [name], we can finally rest.”

You blinked again, all but ceasing your tears.

“We can… rest? But- but what about-”

Your mind filtered between all the different things you could say.

What about your promise to Egeria? The deal you made with Focalors? You had sworn you would lay your life down to pave the pathway for a free Fontaine, a Fontaine without a curse lingering overhead. The seal you had sworn to protect until your last breath, it had broken… but it was still okay.

You were still here.

But what had happened? Were there any complications or bumps in the road? What about Furina? What would she do in her life as a cursed human? What would YOU do? And then there was…

“Neuvillette!” You suddenly snapped back to full alert, “What about Neuvillette?”

She smacked your arm, “You managed to survive and your first thought isn't even about yourself!” She sighed, wiping a tear from her cheek, “300 years has done nothing to change you.”

It was as though her words went in one ear and out the other, “What has become of him? Is he alright? He’s been well, hasn't he? Please tell me nothing too awful has happened to him.”

This time, she smacked your arm with an added aggression, “[name]! Neuvillette is fine! Would you please relax?” Still despite urging him to relax, she couldn't help the way her hands seemed to move on their own. Tiny claps, each ringing in the empty room with a joyous sound, “It's only seeming to sink in now that we are free.” She paused again, “Free, isn't that such a beautiful word?”

You nodded, but your thoughts wandered. “Indeed.”

Furina tutted, crossing her arms, “And what exactly has your mind wandering this time? Don't tell me it's still Neuvillette!”

You sheepishly averted your eye contact.

She pouted, “Well? Out with it!”

You sighed, “Does he know? That I am still…”

She hummed thoughtfully, “I didn't think to tell him. I was far too busy trying to find you, you rascal.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “However, I can assure you he will be nothing less than overjoyed to see you.”

You swallowed a lump of spit, “He will?”

She nodded, “Even all these years later, he hasn't moved on. You're lucky he is as loyal a man as can be, otherwise he might have moved on.”

“He waited… 300 years? Without any other relationships?”

“I would hardly believe it myself if I were you, but I've seen him make the trek to your old study with my own two eyes!” She folded her hands in her lap, “He really is as loyal at they come.”

You frowned, “That doesn't make me feel any better.”

She tilted her head to the side, “Why not? After all, you two were in love, weren't you?”

“I..." you began, "...don't know. Silly, irrational fears, I guess."

But you definitely knew.

How does one go about saying hello without a proper goodbye?

Especially when there wasn't supposed to be a "you" to say "hello" to in the first place.

“I came as soon as I heard-”

Furina stood from where she was seated just outside your room in the infirmary, “You’ll have to wait, Siegewinne is with him right now.”

His knuckles turned white around the handle of his cane, “Surely, she wouldn’t be bothered if I just stood in, if I could just–”

“Neuvillette,” Furina warned, “Whatever Siegewinne orders is in the best interests of her patient. It isn’t our place to question her.”

His hands were shaking as he tried to plead his case, moving closer to the door, “Lady Furina, you don’t understand. I have to see him, I must see that it is truly him, that he is truly alive–”

He was rambling at this point, so dizzyingly frenzied he could barely feel Furina’s smaller hands curl around his biceps, “Calm down!”

“I-”

“No, no more arguments,” she shook him gently, “You need to pull yourself together before you become another patient. You’re paler than I’ve ever seen you.”

He went to open his mouth again, but one look from the former archon sent his jaw snapping shut. The two stood in silence for a moment, just staring at each other.

“...”

After a long moment, punctuated with labored breathing and more words exchanged through the eyes than could be described, the Iudex finally peeled his lips open to ask a final question.

“Is it… really him?”

Furina let his words hang in the air for a moment before asking a question of her own, “Will knowing help you settle down while we wait?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, “but I feel so strongly that I must know.”

She chewed her lip contemplatively, weighing both options in her head. Before she could decide, the lock on the door quietly clicked open in the tensely blanketed room outside of the infirmary.

The door opened with the knowing creak of old, heavy metal. The pitter patter of little steps on the dark floor seemed to snap Neuvillette out of the little stance he was in with Furina. He surged towards the door like a bullet, almost tripping over himself and almost knocking Siegewinne over in his haste.

He couldn’t quite remember what all happened in the intermission. Things like fumbling over questions, getting answers he couldn’t remember anymore were plucked out of his mind like the petals of a dying flower.

Yes, your condition was stable.

No, you could not consume solid food seeing as you’d just taken your medication. (Much to Furina’s dismay, she had brought some of your favorite pastries. )

No, you would not be taken off of bedrest anytime soon.

But yes, despite it all, you were in proper condition to accept visitors.

He didn’t know what he was expecting to see beyond the closed metal door, but it wasn’t what he actually ended up seeing. This wasn’t how he remembered you. But it also was too close of a resemblance to assert that you were someone else or even an imposter wearing your skin.

‘Such dull eyes, such pale skin…’

He toyed with the cuff of his sleeve. Unconsciously, he found himself gritting his teeth, standing in the open doorway while he waited for you to acknowledge him. He was reluctant to disturb the tranquil stillness that settled over your room. He was afraid that if he moved or spoke, something would happen. Something would crack and the illusion of your return would shatter and scatter into a million pieces on the floor.

But the way your eyes lit up in recognition, the strained smile set on your face, it was starting to sink in that you really weren’t gone forever. You were right there, you were breathing, and you were alive against all odds. “Neuvillette? Is that really you?” Sweetly, the skin at the corners of your eyes crinkled, “You really made the trip to the Fortress just to visit me?”

He could feel himself getting choked up at the sound of your voice, as rasped and painful as it sounded. No matter how grating it would’ve been to anyone else, it was as soothing and melodic as a chorus of angels. Even as he swallowed the spit clogging his airway, he still struggled to speak, “Of course I did.”

“...”

“...Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“...”

Carefully, he tugged the heavy door closed behind him. He sat in the rather uncomfortable folding chair positioned at the side of your cot, nails digging little smiles into his palm even through his gloves. What was once comfortable silence thickened and lay over your heads like a thick fog.

Eventually, the sharp-edge of your voice cut through the mistlike tension like a blade, “Neuvillette, I have a question.”

“What’s wrong?” Immediately, it felt like he was on the defensive. The Iudex could not ascertain why, but the hairs on the back of his neck stood anxiously.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong,” you reassured, weakly clearing your throat, “I’m just curious about something.”

Your words did little to quell his worries, but still, he nodded his head as if they did. “What is it?”

Your limp arms rose from the bed, fingers weakly and clumsily fidgeting with one another. “...Did you wait for me?”

“Hm, I suppose I did.”

It seemed his answer only caused your thumbs to twiddle more aggressively where they lay, “Well… Why?”

He went to answer, but like they seemed to be doing more and more today, they caught in his throat on the way out.

Why had he waited?

Had he meant to wait?

Or was that just a product of his incessant work schedule?

He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, just barely nipping at the skin with elongated fangs. Ultimately, he settled for answering as truthfully as he possibly could, “...I didn’t see any reason to seek anyone else.”

Your thumbs stopped fidgeting, fingers interlocking, “What do you mean? Did you not fear being alone?”

He tilted his head to the side, “Did you ever fear being alone?”

“...”

His body posture seemed to relax, “I had enough when I was with you, there was never any longing for something I felt I could not have again.”

“That is…” You trailed off. It seemed the words were lost in translation as you went to finish your thought. The same tense silence settled between the two of you once more.

“...”

“You… aren’t upset with me?”

The Iudex looked at you as if you’d grown a second head. “What in the world could I be upset over?”

You averted eye contact, “I lied to you. I told you I would not survive and then I turn up again as sick as a dog without much to show for it.”

Neuvillette frowned himself, “You aren’t giving yourself enough credit. You and Lady Furina managed to fool the Heavenly Principles and save the entirety of Fontaine, is that not something to be proud of? Do you value your sacrifice so little?”

“Of course I value my sacrifice!” You countered, indignant. Still, your voice lowered to little more than a murmur as you managed to spit out, “I’m afraid I just seem to value you more than that entirely.”

His eyes, always imperceptibly sharp, seemed to soften just a little bit.

“You might not realize, but while time seemed to pass here and things changed, giving up my physical body to maintain the seal on the Primordial Sea meant I was stuck without any senses. It was such an incredibly lonely existence,” Your eyes trained on your lap, “I did not expect to survive, and I was sure that even if I did survive, it wouldn’t be for long. To be able to sit here even a month later is more than I allowed myself to hope for.”

“...”

“...So why is it that I feel that was a lie?” Why is it that I hoped you would wait for me and I would be able to see you again?” Your expression dropped even further, “Why is it that I am still hoping you hold some kind of affection for me, even if I know it would be entirely foolish to love a man you expected to never see again?”

“...”

Tentatively, his hand reached out to rest on top of your interlocked hands.

You looked up to meet his gaze.

“...If I still did?”

You laughed, as forced as it sounded, “I would call you a fool. A fool who is in love with a man that will likely take eons to recover, and even if I did manage to recover, I would only manage to remain a hollow shell of who I was.”

His lips pulled into a tight line, “I think you are the fool for once.”

You frowned.

“You provide me with a feeling of wholeness that I have the inability to find with anyone else. Whether you are the same as you used to be or weaker, bedbound, whatever you wish to call yourself, I will never be able to find that feeling with another.” He squeezed your hands in his, “You are indispensable, so fret not. No matter how long you take to recover, I shall stay by your side every step of the way.”

there's a note attached to the side of the phone booth, read it?

" writers block tried to get me but it didn't work 💯💯💯 "

This is the longest its ever taken me to update I start banging my head against the wall

Constantly conflicted about writing and then feeling sad about not writing and suddenly, oh shit college !

I will say that once I fall into a rhythm updates will definitely become regular again but probably not as quick as they used to be. I fear I am no longer the man that can black out and publish 7.5k words of smut and or gay hurt/comfort every other day.

Aside from that I am good and well!!! Expect some more content from me in less than a month from now

I was considering doing a 200 follower special, but I fear that has been pushed off the table in favor of focusing on the long-form book I've been brewing up and planning.

Of course, I'll still be writing the requests I have in the queue, but the updates will probably be staggered with updates for the long form book

thank you, god bless 💯💯

- love, operator t-19

#genshin impact #genshin #neuvillette #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x male reader #genshin x male reader #x reader #x male reader #male reader #x male y/n #fanfiction #fanfic #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfic #Σ>―𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭-𝟏𝟗 ✆→

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respectthepetty · 5 months ago

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GMMTV 2025 - Hot Tops and One Bottom

GMMTV offered up ONE straight show, and even though I'm salty that I didn't get Midnight Museum 2 and despite the current state of the world, I have never been happier to be alive at this exact moment that I'm living in. GMMTV really cemented that it is Disney BL, and said FUCK THEM HETEROS!

As usual, I'm listing what shows I'm most excited to see from GMMTV's annual unveiling, but in order to be fair to the other shows, I will not consider one of the shows in the rankings because I am a Jaidee fan first, and a human second:

Dare You to Death

My boys are giving me ~Murder, Manipulate, Make-Out, and MAYHEM~ so I'm already seated, sat, and sitted. I've always thought Joong should play a character who was insincere and a bit crazy, and Dunk should lean into his haughtiness (emphasis on HOT), so even though all these other shows look great, they aren't JoongDunk trying to solve a murder while trying to not murder each other, and it would be unfair of me to hold that against everyone else. I was going to take whatever I was getting from them, but THIS?! Sorry, to everyone else, but y'all never stood a chance.

#1a - Memoir of Rati

Moment of honesty - Inn and Great are fine as fuck. They are already attractive to begin with, so to put them in a historical drama, of course, I'm going to eat it up. This is a serious piece about political and social tensions which I have no doubts they will carry into getting some awards for it. I was getting worried that these two weren't going to have another show together next year, but not only did GMMTV give them one of the meatier plots, the series also has Aou and Boom in it with an amazing story as well, so this was easily my top choice.

Or at least it was my top choice until . . .

#1b - Ticket to Heaven

Religious trauma aligned with Catholicism is my special brand of queer angst, so this series already has me all the way fucked up. Fourth is such a phenomenal actor and Gemini always acts his ass off, so I know they will have me in a fetal position every single episode clutching my rosary and praying for God's mercy since I'm already in my feelings about this. The heathens in the room better read up on some biblical references because if you thought I was doing too much over a cross necklace in Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo and the praying in The Warp Effect, I Saw You in My Dreams, and Marahuyo Project, block me now because that was only the tip of the religious iceberg.

#2 - Cat for Cash

Although I'm a vegetarian, I'm a Disney villain who strongly dislikes animals, yet even I was happy to see First getting advice from cats on how to make coffee and how to win over Khao. This is the FirstKhao romance we have been waiting for! It looks soft and sincere, and even though the plot involves hearing cats, First as the worst debt collector and Khao as a grieving sad boy are their most realistic characters they have ever played. The series also looks like it's going to make me cry, so thank goodness Satang showed up to make sure I would be emotional about every show GMMTV gives me next year.

#3 - That Summer

On the topic of Satang, I'm shocked that I clicked with this trailer. I was ready to write this off as a Hallmark series due to its plot about a prince with amnesia falling in love with a commoner until the trailer revealed that he doesn't have amnesia, and the commoner knows he is a prince. The trailer situated the problem will come from their class differences plus Mond is kissing a homie (in secret), and since I just asked for more series with sad wet boys on the beach, this show goes at the top for GMMTV delivering me something I didn't know I wanted but a show I definitely needed.

#4 - A Dog and a Plane

Tay and New got me by the throat in 2019 and 2024 with Dark Blue Kiss and Peaceful Property, and even when I wanted to be mad at Cherry Magic, I couldn't because these men always sell the hell out of a ship even when they shouldn't. I'm a Jaidee fan first, and a human second, but I'll throw on some polar bear and whale jammies any day to join the Polcas because Tay and New have not disappointed me once in their joint shows or individual shows. So here I am, super duper excited to see New play a GAY flight attendant (a stereotype I love to see) whose man is trying to screw Pun only for Tay to take the hush money yet still catch feelings AND FLIGHTS! Marc's there too, so it's time I was served openly gay men who are trying to join the mile-high club since it's been over a decade since I got Pedro Almodóvar's I'm So Excited.

#5 - My Romance Scammer

I support marriage equality, but I do not believe in the institution of marriage, so I'm thrilled that GMMTV decided to throw me some gay divorce the same year gay marriage was legalized! Next, I'm getting the odd ball couple of Ohm and Fluke with Fluke being a dummy who falls for the first man who is nice to him, only for Marc to think he has a great relationship with Junior, BUT IT'S ALL A SCAM! I will probably end up defending this show with my life because this is the romcom romcoN I deserve!

Side Quest - Tarot Card Series

The theme for this year's announcement was "Riding the Wave" but it should have been "Wheel of Fortune" because there were a lot of shows about destiny and changing the future, so I'm going to rank those in a quick sub-category:

1) My Magic Prophecy

This is the dynamic I want to see from Jimmy and Sea. Jimmy IS a doctor, so getting a clean-cut smarmy version of him will pair so well with muscular Sea being a jerk. I was going to make a quirky comment about how they can now see the future as a reference to Last Twilight, but I'm still salty about that show, so I'll just be happy for them and THIS show.

2) Head 2 Head

I'm excited for the Only Boo kids because I think they should've gotten the My Love Mix-Up remake since I think they do well with being complete opposites that make perfect sense being together. This is also how I found out that Surf from I Saw You in My Dream is now with GMMTV.

So although it was awkward to realize GMMTV had acquired another BL boy under my chismosa nose (am I slipping?), it's nice to see the company staying on brand as Disney BL in its attempt to capture all the Pokemon Avengers BL Boys.

3) Wu

Since I've been watching High School Frenemy through my dash, I know plenty of people will be ecstatic to see Nani and Sky play soulmates, again (because High School Fremeny is gay af!), but I'm showing up because I got the red bracelets of destiny tying the boys together!

The trailers this year were surprisingly lax on the colors, so I'm taking what I can get how I get it. Bring me the RED STRING OF FATE!

4) MU-TE-LUV

This is Club Sapan Fine with a different name so it's going to be campy and messy. But do I think GMMTV will handle fems well? No. Am I pressed about it? Also, no. Because I actually watch AND enjoy Club Sapan Fine, so if GMMTV wants to try its hand at wild wacky camp in an anthology-style series, I'm down to clown, at least for the queer episodes that is.

5) Melody of Secrets

This was originally going to be number three on my Tops List, but as the trailer continued, I got more confused. Then, Force's face blurred and it looked like he got snatched by a demon, so I got scared. Like real scared. I don't eff with los espookys, so I'll be watching this show with the lights on and my Care Bear squad to protect me.

Honorable Mentions

I watch ALL GMMTV queer shows (and even the ones that only I think are queer), so I'll still enjoy something about these shows, but they were just lacking that special razzle dazzle:

Burnout Syndrome

Director Nuchy. Gun in black lipstick. Gun being a sex worker. Off being an asshole. Thor. Poly(?). This should have been my Holy Grail, but I can't believe the show will give me a proper love conflict when OffGun are a branded pair. Also, Nuchy gave me ToddBlack, who I will NEVER be over, so even though I know she can and will give me *THE* toxic couple to root for above all other toxicitos, unless these two are about to drown each other in that bathtub and play Olympic-levels of mind games with each other, I'm reserving my excitement until it airs.

Me and Thee

A soap-opera loving mafioso. Pond in suits with slicked-back hair. Phuwin being beautiful. Santa looking delicious. Est back in his Naughty Babe assistant mode. Perth. COLORS! Just like Burnout Syndrome, on paper it looks like something I would devour, but a third of that trailer was Pond and Phuwin in a bathtub, and in my Michelle Visage voice, "stop relying on that body" even if that's the biggest reason I'll be showing up to watch.

Whale Store

Milk licked cat food off of Love's finger, and I fear this might be too lesbian for me. I don't kink shame, and I'm always down to eat a girl out go down, but cat food? Really, sis? On top of that, this felt like a JittiRain series with Love's character clearly hiding something that is going to hurt Milk's character, then the side couple was crying and making everything awkward. I support the lesbians. I support queer rights AND wrongs. I'll be repeating this even as I'm watching it.

Boys in Love

GMMTV was smart putting all the new kids in a show with Papang x Podd as the little older romance crumbs to keep us satisfied for the time being, but that's also why I'm being petty. If this is the stepping stone for Papang and Podd to be leads for GMMTV 2026, then I'll take what I can get, but I feel like Oliver Twist asking for more porridge, when I should already be getting a damn buffet!

Love You Teacher

This show almost had me in the first half. Sam's character was giving me everything. The premise was solid. Perth was an already gay man in a long-term relationship with his boyfriend. Things were going well even with the accident. Then, the show brought on the real plot --- seven-year-olds. Jesús Cristo. It was a lovely time up until then, and now, just like the cat food, I'm realizing new things about myself and my boundaries on a random Tuesday morning, and I don't like it.

Girl Rules

This is the female version of Only Friends saran wrapped in women's empowerment. No me gusta pero lo voy a ver because I support queer wrongs even when they are oh-so-very wrong.

The Love of Siam: The Musical

What. The. Fuck. But also, sign me up!

Dishonorable Mention - Only Friends 2: Dream On

I've reached new heights in my pettiness because this show is in Petty Prison before it even airs. My blog is a living record of how badly I wanted Minx Mix and Flirty Fluke in the first season of Only Friends. It was the only thing I could think about; then, I ended up hating the first season, so I counted my blessings that Minx Mix only showed up for two whole seconds and Flirty Fluke was nowhere in sight. And now this has happened. This is a lesson in "be careful what you wish for" because I have never been more upset that I finally got what I wanted. Unless the show gives Boston his cake and lets him eat it to, I'm not watching it. Not Minx Mix, Flirty Fluke, or Ohm's body could convince me to do this a second time.

#gmmtv 2025 #I support the girls‚ the gays‚ and the goths #and strangely‚ I'm kinda get all of those #I support queer rights AND wrongs #dare you to death #Memoir of Rati #ticket to heaven #cat for cash #that summer the series #a dog and a plane #my romance scammer #and so much more

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bunnyshideawayy · 1 year ago

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a rumored bastard and a proven, disinherited, legally illegitimate recognized bastard are not the same.

Rhaenyra’s sons are rumored bastards, i know the show has a lot of team green stans feeling bold but just as in the books, they are never legally considered bastards in the show either. they are speculated to be via their physical features and Laenor’s apparent sexuality, but since Laenor and the KING (btw Westeros is a absolute monarchy, meaning the king IS law) both claim all three boys as legitimate heirs, unless someone demands a medieval dna test, those kids are legally Laenor’s true sons.

this is apparently a very hard concept to understand for some, hell even Alicent in the show says something like “we can all tell” which fair point, but that is not proof enough. looks, accusations, and rumor are not the same as actual proof of adultery or bastardy.

someone i was having a “discussion” with used Joffrey as an example to point out a flaw in my logic, but ultimately proved my point. Joffrey was a rumored bastard. Ned himself had no more proof than Alicent does, just hair color and a hunch, so Joffrey was never legally disinherited from the line of succession. I hate to defend either of these men but King Robert never publicly disowned him and called him bastard, which is why Joffrey ascended to the Iron Throne. now the rumors did hurt, and caused huge political issues leading to the War of 5 Kings, which is exactly why Alicent and Team Green is so insistent that Rhaenyra’s children are illegitimate, they know they cannot legally or physically prove her children are bastards, especially when Laenor and the King are claiming them are true born, but they can spread the rumor and call into question Rhaenyra’s honesty and morality. think episode 8 when team green takes their chance with Vaemond to attempt a coup of sorts for the Driftmark Throne, why would the succession of Driftmark need to be settled if Rhaenyra’s sons are true born? why would Alicent / Otto need to make this decision in place of the sick king and mia lord of tides who both had already been stating Luke would inherit for years. it’s all apart of the scheme to tarnish Rhaenyra’s reputation as Vaemond has no other proof either, and promptly loses his head (both metaphorically and literally) by calling the recognized heir to the throne a whore and her children bastards with no proof in front of the whole court.

it is a political scheme on both sides, Alicent cannot prove anything, and Rhaenyra cannot disprove the rumors no matter how many times they are claimed as true born sons. Rhaenyra has to live in the comfort the law gives her, as legally her sons are seen as legitimate, and thus legally they are protected. and from an unbiased pov with both in universe and historical references, those kids might be bastards in actually but not legally.

Rhaenyra goes through hell to keep her children legally protected, not only for their sake but for hers because should the truth come out both her and Laenor would be seriously punished, i wouldn’t go as far as executed but that would depend on if Viserys was old and bed ridden or dead. which is why im making this incredibly long post repeating myself in every point. you can argue all day about Rhaenyra’s children and their parentage but i am making this to make it clear that her children are not *legally* bastards by Westeros law. in order for Jace, Luke, and Joffrey to be illegitimate bastards Laenor, Rhaenyra, Harwin, and/or Viserys would have to publicly acknowledge them as such and disinherit them. no, Laenor and Viserys dying do not magically make Rhaenyra’s children legal bastards either. they would, again, need to be claimed and proven as such and disinherited.

and at the end of it all, true or not true, the rumors made a lasting impact on the story. so much so this fandom is still debating this topic, and frankly i am dreading the season 2 release when all the bad takes and bad faith arguments start up again.

anyway other famous rumored bastards are in Targ history are:

Maegor

Daeron II

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wizzard890 · 10 months ago

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Listen I know "iPhone face" is in common parlance now, but I think it's worth returning to what the phrase actually means, outside of TikTok trends. It's not that some people have faces that look like they "belong" in the 14th century, it's about how cosmetic procedures often recognizably alter actors' faces to such an extent that their looks are anachronistic.

(Strikingly beautiful people existed in all eras. The Ottoman court of Selim II had its own Zendaya; somewhere within the Aztec empire lived a man as gorgeous as Jacob Anderson, this isn't really about the hotness factor of celebrity.)

As cosmetic procedures become more common, we've gotten good at knowing when someone has had work done. Not because it's obvious, but because the result is a certain Look, particularly among people who live their lives in the public eye. And let's be real, particularly among older women. There's a ton to unpack in that as it touches pay equity and job opportunity and the freedom to do whatever you want with your own body, but that's not really what this post is about either.

I guess this post is about the first images we've gotten of Gladiator II, a movie I'm very excited about.

Has Denzel Washington had work done? Almost certainly. But he's a man, so he hasn't had to have nearly as much done, plus we're not as used to looking for cosmetic procedures in men; as a result, at age sixty-nine, he looks credibly historical in a sword-and-sandals setting.

Women actors, particularly actors of a certain age, aren't always so fortunate. And I'm not talking about botched procedures, or even visible procedures. I'm talking about the sameness of the result, the plumpness and smoothness demanded of older women.

I don't want to include the Vanity Fair photo of the lovely fifty year old Connie Nielsen, also in Gladiator II, because this shouldn't be a conversation about the appearance of a particular woman. But we all know what good filler looks like! And we also know that no women in ancient Rome or Georgian England or medieval France had that look.

There's no real conclusion here, it just bums me out how often I'm watching a historical drama and a sixty year old woman, an actor of presence and skill and experience, has a face that just pushes me right out of the scene. This is no actor's fault, and it doesn't undercut their talent or that of the filmmakers, but it's a damn shame.

#this didn't used to be such a thing but cosmetic procedures are SO common among actors now and 'natural' so often just means 'look young'#and it sucks!

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lackadaisycats · 2 years ago

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I’m so sorry if you’ve already answered this somewhere, but how do you design your characters?

I’ve been trying to make an OC from the prohibition era and it turns out there’s basically nothing to work with for men’s outfits, so I’m curious how you made this many that look unique and fitting to the characters

There is so much to work with, though! You will tend to find more of a focus on variety in women's fashion, but there is still quite a lot of menswear to ogle too. I suppose it's just a matter of searching out ideas and inspiration in the rights corners. Here are a few suggestions:

Old Clothing Catalogues -

Collections from Sears-Roebuck and other popular clothing retailers are pretty easy to find compiled into relatively inexpensive books, or just floating online.

A fair bit of it is in the public domain now.

--Here's an entire 1922 catalogue of stuff to flip through.

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Contemporary Artwork -

Some phenomenal illustrators were working in this field amidst the "Golden Age of Illustration" and featured prominently on the covers of magazines and on the ads inside. There was a lot of emphasis on fashion.

Collier's and The Saturday Evening Post are a couple of the more prominent and easily searchable resources. The costuming on the cover art always has a lot of personality.

There's Rockwell, of course, and it's almost impossible to go wrong with J. C. Leyendecker. He's probably best known for his Arrow Collar ad art, but even his sock ads are like…

There were numerous other amazing and influential illustrators working at the time too. Here's a list of some of them. Here's a bonus Henry Raleigh featuring some of his fabulously-dressed people.

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Blogs and Articles -

There are so many of them! If you want historical accuracy, be wary of write-ups pulling all of their references from film and television. There's nothing wrong with using those for inspiration if you aren't too concerned with historicity, but there are some pretty comprehensive and well-researched things out there with more of an eye on actual fashion history too:

--Gentleman's Gazette - What Men Really Wore in the 1920s

--The Fashionisto - 1920s Men's Fashion

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Digital Collections -

There are numerous digital historic image collections stemming from universities, museums, libraries, and the government that are free to peruse too.

--The Metropolitan Museum has a searchable catalog of exhibits that includes fashion and photos

--Here's some things from the New York Public Library

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Photos at Large -

If you aren't sure where to start, image searching for any of Hollywood's early celebrities will typically turn up a bevy of production stills and promotional photography featuring a variety of fashions. Here's a random Getty images search for Harold Lloyd. A lot of standard 3 piece suits, but a lot of stuff with added character too.

Photography was generally quite accessible by the 1920s, though, and you can find a lot of authentic photos of people from all walks of life, out in the wild wearing all sorts of clothes.

This is by no means the limit to the resources available, but hopefully it'll provide some leaping-off points for designing looks for your characters!

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torchwood-99 · 1 year ago

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Eowyn and Gothic Horror

I've ranted about the interpretation that Eowyn's rejection of gender roles was a symptom of her sickness, caused only by Grima's manipulations. An interpretation that doesn't hold to either Gandalf's speech in the Houses of Healing, when he specifies how the liberties denied to Eowyn and allowed to Eomer and her male peers played a crucial role in her depression, or when we see how Eowyn was really vindicated in her decision to ride to battle by her victory over the Witch King. A victory that wins her incredible renown and respect.

I think this reading comes about because people see the significance of Grima's contribution to Eowyn's despair, and think he is the sole source of it.

But Eowyn was not dissatisfied with her role and her enforced position in the house because of Grima's manipulations. She didn't rail against sexism because Grima played with her head and "poisoned" her traditionally feminine role for her.

Grima was able to prey on Eowyn, manipulate her and drive her to despair, because of the sexism that forced Eowyn to remain stuck in the house.

Look at the speech Gandalf gives Eomer about Eowyn's sufferings. The very first thing he mentions is the fact that Eowyn was denied the freedoms and opportunities Eomer had. The suffering that follows stems from that first initial injustice.

Because of that first injustice, Eowyn was rendered vulnerable, and Grima was able to exploit that. That isolation, that limited freedom, that unhappiness about her lack of choices, left her free game for Grima to take an already bad situation, and make it far worse.

Thinking about Eowyn's experience in Meduseld, what the impact of being confined to the domestic sphere did to her, and what is left her vulnerable to, makes me think of Gothic horror, and the role of sexism and domesticity in that genre too.

Eowyn's situation before the novels is that of a classic Gothic heroine. A fair, beautiful woman, trapped inside a decaying house, and preyed on by an awful monster, who hungers after her beauty and longs to possess her. Or else, destroy her.

Domestic settings and isolation are pretty crucial themes in the gothic genre, and for that reason it has historically been seen as a woman's genre. It taps into a pretty universal fear of what happens when home ceases to be a safe space, a fear that historically, has a particularly great resonance for women.

Whereas traditionally home is a refuge and respite for men from the world, the home is the woman's only true acceptable sphere. And yet even there she is subordinate. Therefore, she is vulnerable. With no place in the outside world, she has no escape, no respite, no refuge. If home becomes an evil, she is trapped. And because she has no place in the social sphere, she has no voice either. She is invisible, she is overlooked, her sufferings and her contributions are passed over,

Eowyn is isolated. Eowyn is vulnerable. Eowyn is overlooked. And because Eowyn is isolated and vulnerable and overlooked, Grima is able to get his hooks into her and drive her to despair. She is a wild animal, trammelled and caught in a hutch, a predator's helpless prey. But Grima didn't put Eowyn in the hutch. Eowyn was already there. Grima just took advantage of that.

Even after Grima is gone, Meduseld is still a place Eowyn longs to escape, and while its evil is purged and she does return, it is only for a short while. Grima's defeat is not enough to make Meduseld a place where Eowyn can find real happiness or fulfilment. On its own, it still represents a role for Eowyn that she wishes to move beyond.

The healing counterpoint to Eowyn's gothic castle of horrors, the hutch she was caught in, is in escape, and in a return to nature.

Eowyn's entire romance with Faramir takes place within the gardens of the Houses of Healing, where we see Eowyn start to recover from her ordeal. It takes place on the open, in the garden, on the ramparts, with much notice given to the sky and the sun and the elements around them.

(Also, the Houses of Healing themselves are not a domestic setting, but a public one, and there we see women working alongside men and holding authority.)

Eowyn's happy ending, her great escape, climaxes with her decision to go with Faramir to Ithilien.

Ithilien is the exact opposite of a hutch. It's descriptions are filled with natural imagery, and is known as the Garden of Gondor. It is a place for growth and fresh starts. A place of freedom. A place for a wild thing.

When Faramir suggests that he and Eowyn live in Ithilien, he reasserts again and again that they will go there if it is Eowyn's will. Both Tolkien and Faramir put emphasis on the importance of Eowyn's will, and Eowyn's right to freedom of movement.

In his plans for their future, Faramir talks of "us" and "we", removing the separation between men (belonging to the social sphere) and women (belonging to the domestic), and speaks of Ithilien as a shared dwelling place for both of them. Faramir only distinguishes between himself and Eowyn when he puts importance on Eowyn's will, and at the end, on Eowyn's influence.

At the close of his speech, Faramir says all things will grow with joy in Ithilien, if Eowyn is there. Returning Ithilien to its former glory, allowing it to bloom once more, is to become Faramir's life's work, and still it is Eowyn's influence he puts centre stage. Far from being kept confined to the domestic sphere, relegated to being Faramir's home support while he dominates the rehabilitation of Ithilien, Faramir places Eowyn's work and Eowyn's significance at the heart of their future together.

Eowyn goes from being shut in the house, where everything around her was decaying and falling to ruin, to being freed to stand in the heart of nature, where there is a chance for influence, growth, and fresh starts.

#Lotr #Lord of the Rings #Eowyn #Faramir #Grima Wormtongue #Farawyn #Faramir-x-Eowyn #Tolkien Meta Week

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mononijikayu · 9 months ago

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the dragon and the maiden fair — gojo satoru.

Kneeling before you, Satoru worshiped at the altar of your body with reverence, his mouth and tongue offering devotion. Your moans, sweet music to his ears, spurred him on. You gripped the back of his head, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. The sensation, whether painful or not, thrilled him to the core. He liked the pleasure of pain. He liked it rough, as you well know.

Genre: Alternate Universe — ASOIAF

Warning/s: Alternate Universe, R-18, Smut, Explicit Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Romance, Servant!Reader, Targaryen Prince! Satoru, Pet Names, Fluff, Praise, Breeding, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Creampie Possessiveness, Mentions of Historical Notes, Mentions of Body Parts, Mention of Sexual Acts, Mention of Alcohol, Mention of Marriage;

Words: 5k words.

masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 800;

note: im sorry i haven't posted this yet. it took a while because tumblr isn't working well. can anyone help me cause tumblr isn't letting me see images and gifs right now??? this is really a pain. but if you guys have tips, let me know! anyway, i love you all!!! <3

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SUCH A THING WAS UNEXPECTED TO PRINCE SATORU TARGARYEN. If one would have asked him what he wanted all these years ago — he would have said to do his duty to the realm. To ride his dragon off to battle, to enjoy the bounty of his position until he died. Yet, as he took in the moment between you and him, basking in the beam of moonlight — he found himself thinking that this was more than enough. Nothing else mattered in the world. Just the two of you making for a merry bunch, over spiced wine under the moonlight..

His bright blue gaze remarked each movement of your face as laughter echoed at each and every joke, every quip. There was true joy in the beams of your eyes. Satoru Targaryen must admit that he thinks no one has ever truly looked at him with such warmth. No one had ever been this joyful being by his side. No one but you.

You were a common lady, one he shouldn’t even be associating with as a prince. But he found himself enthralled with you. It was as if the flame in him burns if you were there to cause the fury that keeps him alive. He thinks that he found it in the way your hands moved, rubbing itself together with each laughing fit. It was in the way a small bridge forming in your lips folding into a pout roused him with great joy. It was the way your tender hands held him as though he was the most fragile thing in the world.

Every sight of you since he had met you was enough to rush his mood away from the bleak nature of his world spinning onto the void of oblivion. All had been forgotten. His pains of being the most powerful, lonely man in the world. His anger at his father’s debauchery. His grief at the curse of his power, of his position. Since then, in his world, there is only your warmth melting his cold heart little by little.

Satoru was honest when he said that he had known many women and men. At times, he still meets them and knows he has the power to compel them to his bed. To warm his cold bed with the flames that equate his own. Yet none could match your vivacity, your grace or your intelligence. None of them were you. None of them were his maiden fair. None had pierced his heart deeper than the words you gave him each morrow, in his arms, with your warmest tone.

Satoru thinks that you were made for him.

You were given shape to be the one for him.

To love him, to warm him, to bring him to life.

Nothing in the world can make him leave you.

Many had spoken of their concern to him, consorting with a common lady. It was unbecoming, unprecedented for a prince of Dragonstone to be so enthralled with a woman of unequal status. But Satoru thinks he dares not listen. What did these old men know about you? What did these fools know about love? What did they know about the truth of human life? None. No one did. Only he did. Because he had you. You were the truth of human life. You were his life.

It was easy to feel alive when you were the most gentle of all the flowers in this garden. He remembers when he first met you. Eyes gleaming with morning dew, the way your fingers touched the small blossom of white roses springing across the most beautiful gardens. Your beauty was the wonder of humankind. He felt like he was struck by love at that moment.

Your long glistening hair blossomed like a parting flower, beckoning a dance between the wind and your gentle touch. His eyes widened, lips flew apart. The heart thumped against his chest loudly, beat after beat, which made him latch onto his chest. It hurts to see you walk away. From that moment on, he was resolute to find you. He was resolute to have the woman he loved in his arms.

Moon after moon was a disappointment, to be sure. He had found himself unable to find you, even with his most trusted servants looking for you. And in that time, life of the royal court had become placid, cold with the loss of warmth, of reasons. Each day, the throne felt more like his prison than his birthright. He hated how it was. How lonely it was without you.

When he had found you again, he was astounded. You were now working within the palace, as his sister’s maid. It was wonderful for him. Each day, he had invited his sister to join him to break their fast together. And each morning, he could not stop his eyes from wandering towards you. He was sure that all had noticed how enamored he was with you. And he was not shy to deny his fondness, his affections.

You have been mortified that the prince of Dragonstone was willing to put himself in your way and bend to you — a common born lady, with nothing but the clothes on your back. You were a baseborn young maiden. You don't even know who your mother and father were. You felt unworthy of his affections. He was a prince. And you were nothing, you should be nothing. But that did not deter him. And slowly but surely, his charm, his tenderness, his truthfulness, his love — it all won you over.

“You have given me too much wine.” You say to him.

He grins at you. “You are fond of it, are you not? To taste it from my mouth.”

“I am.” You say as your reddened cheeks grew redder yet. “It is late now, isn’t it, my prince?”

He nodded back to you, his thumb wiping the side of your cheek. There was a stain of the wine. “Yes, it is past midnight now.”

“Oh my!” You hiccuped in between. “I feel as though I am drunk now.”

“Yes, my maiden fair. You are drunk with a merry drink.” He cooes at you, bright cerulean eyes beaming at you. “You were so beautiful with each drink, my maiden fair.”

You laugh once more. “Well, I do not mind, my prince. It is merrier with you. Everything is.”

“I should say the same.” He smiles fondly, so warmly towards you.

Both had taken a step out of his chambers in days, enjoying each other’s company in the most intimate sensuality. His duties keep him away from you more often than he would have hoped. And with his taking of you under the nose of all these bothersome fools, he thought to keep you away from court and keep you in Dragonstone. At times, he knows you get lonely with him being summoned to do his duties at court. But he was thankful that you bear with him. You love him and it was enough. It was more than enough.

His head rested upon your bare belly, as he watched his dragon fly among the smallest birds that fly within the keep most days. He ate at your womanhood like a starved man, over and over again. He enjoyed how you pulled at his silver hair over and over again, crying and weeping. When you were exhausted from pleasure, he would find himself cleaning you and caring for you. He asks the servants to send up some food for the two of you and he feeds you. He does not want you to move one single muscle, one single hand, or finger. He wanted to pamper you, pleasure you. Love you every single day.

One of these days, he had heard that he had been once more summoned by his father at court. But he did not care.. Not when in his arms glowed a most beautiful marvel, laced in endless Tyroshi silk, your body as soft as a feather’s touch. He was happy to stay here in your arms. You did not mind if he worked on his scrolls in bed. He was enthralled watching you read missives for him too. It was too much work, to leave you again. That he was not much willing to do.

“I do not think the court likes me very much.” You whispered, resting your head against his warm body. “Nor your father the king.”

He laughs, his hands pushing away your long hair from your cheek. “My maiden fair, I do not care what anyone else thinks.”

“But it is a stain on your reputation, Satoru—”

“As if none of these bastards have mistresses of their own common lady as their second wives. Mayhaps even whores.” He scoffs, leaning forward to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Loyalty is not their strong suit, my love. But it is mine. I will not forsake you. You are and never will be my stain. You are my love. Only mine.”

You feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, a soothing balm against the doubts that cling to your heart. Satoru's touch is gentle, his fingers tracing patterns along your jawline, as if to erase the worries etched upon your face.

"I fear they will try to tear us apart, my prince." you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the court's judgment lingers in the air, a heavy presence that threatens to suffocate the fragile happiness you've found in his arms.

Satoru's eyes meet yours, a fierce determination burning within their depths. "Let them try, my maiden fair." he replies, his voice a low rumble that resonates with unwavering confidence. "I have faced countless adversaries, and none have succeeded in separating me from what I hold dear. And you, you are the one I hold most dear.”

You marvel at his unwavering resolve, the strength that radiates from him like a beacon in the darkness. In his presence, the world feels a little less daunting, and your fears begin to dissipate, replaced by a flicker of hope. He was all you had, your beautiful, powerful prince. And he wanted you. For bitter or for worse, for good or for greater. He will want you, he will love you.

"Do you truly believe we can overcome this?" you ask, seeking reassurance in his steady gaze.

He cups your face in his hands, his touch tender yet firm. "I believe in us, my love." he declares, his words a promise woven into the fabric of your shared future. "No matter the trials we face, I will fight for you, for us. Together, we are unbreakable."

Your heart swells with a mixture of gratitude and love, a potent blend that binds you to him in ways words can scarcely capture. In this moment, beneath the weight of a disapproving court and a king who remains an enigma, you find solace in the unwavering devotion of the man who holds your heart.

“Will you fight for me too, hm?” His cerulean eyes search your own, expectantly. “Will you fight for your prince?”

"I will fight for you, my prince. My Satoru." you vow, your voice steady and resolute. "For us."

With a soft smile, Satoru leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that speaks of promises and dreams yet to be realized. All that was left was passion, bountiful love as you returned the kiss while shutting your eyes and letting yourself be completely removed from reality.

They were turned over as he leaned over you without severing their kiss. His right hand was entangled in your fine long hair, while the other nuzzled your face as if he wanted to close his eyes and recall your beauty. Although he was certain that nothing about you would be easily forgotten.

You ended the kiss, taking in air.

His bright blue never leaves you.

He was hungry for more of you.

You breathed deeply and gazed at him with your wanton eyes. "I want you to take me. Make me your wife, even just tonight, my prince.”

You hitched a breath as he delicately caressed the firm line of your jaw with his thumb. You feel like you were on fire, whenever you were with him. "My maiden fair. I’ve wanted to make you my wife all this time. You do not need pretense.”

“I cannot—”

He moves forward, placing kisses on your neck. You moan. “I will not let you go because some fool says no. I am Satoru, prince of Dragonstone. The first of the name. The man who will be king. I have a dragon who’s seen many battles. Anyone who dares say no to me, say no to our marriage. They will face my love. Do not care for their worries. Love me instead. Make love to your husband, your prince. Your king.”

Your heart races at his words, a mix of desire and disbelief flooding your senses. Satoru’s confidence is intoxicating, a force that draws you closer to him, erasing the barriers that have kept you apart.

“Tonight, let there be no doubts, my maiden fair.” he murmurs against your skin, his lips tracing a path of fire down your neck. His hands cradle your face with a tenderness that contrasts the fervor of his words.

You close your eyes, surrendering to the sensation of his touch, the world around you fading into insignificance. In this moment, there is only Satoru, his presence enveloping you like a cloak of protection and love.

“But what of the court? The king?” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you cling to the last vestiges of reason.

Satoru pulls back slightly, his gaze capturing yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless. “Let them watch and whisper,” he declares, his voice firm and unyielding. “I will not be swayed by their disapproval. My heart belongs to you, and nothing will change that.”

His words ignite a spark within you, a courage that had lain dormant now awakening with fervor. You reach up, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer as you press your lips to his, pouring all your love and longing into the kiss.

Satoru responds with equal fervor, his hands roaming your body, claiming you as his own. The world outside ceases to exist, and in this private sanctuary, you find solace in the certainty of his love.

“I love you,” you whisper between kisses, the words a sacred vow.

He smiles against your lips, a warmth radiating from him that banishes all doubts. “And I you. my maiden fair, my little wife.” he replies, his voice a soft caress. “Tonight and forevermore, you are mine.”

Satoru leaned forward with intent, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. His hands traced every contour of your body, moving with purpose until they reached your thighs. You responded eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck and threading your fingers through his silver hair, playing with the strands as he deepened the kiss.

After a while, he shifted his attention, trailing kisses down your neck and leaving marks that drew soft moans from your lips. His focus moved lower, drawn to the beauty of your form even in the dim candlelight. Your full, enticing curves were a sight that made his heart race.

Taking his time, Satoru kissed his way down your thighs and legs, committing each inch to memory. He felt as if he had ascended to the heavens, feasting on the divine bounty laid before him. He takes and he takes — greedily as he can. Each sound from you egged him on. Faster and then harsher, then deeper.

The reality of your shared intimacy was something he never dared to dream of, when he first met you. But now none will stop him. Now he has had a taste of you, now that he has had plenty, he wants more of you. He wanted more and more. He was greedy when it came to you. His maiden fair.

He pulled back momentarily, observing your flushed face and the gentle pants escaping your lips. With renewed passion, he captured your mouth once more, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs, eliciting a quiet whimper from you. As he broke the kiss, his gaze roamed your body, filled with longing and desire. He carefully lifted the hem of your nightgown, revealing the sacred beauty beneath. The beauty that can only truly belong to him.

Lost in the moment, you cried out in pleasure, surrendering to the wave of bliss that overtook you. Satoru reveled in your cries, cherishing every moment as he savored the gift of your shared passion, holding nothing back in this sacred exchange. If there was such a thing as the Maiden, then you were her best creature. You were her best daughter. The daughter he wants to claim, to breed, to make his own.

Satoru's kisses were fervent, igniting a fire that spread through your veins. His calloused, warm hands roamed your body with a confidence born from knowing every sensitive spot, every curve that made you sigh and arch toward him. He let a small laugh release from his mouth. You were getting too eager for your own good.

As he worshiped your skin with his lips, you felt the heat of his breath against your thighs, a tantalizing promise of what was to come. Your lover was generous, he always was. He cared more for your pleasure than his own, that was truly certain to you. But he has too much energy. He was relentless in making you find your pleasure as much as he had time and energy to spend. You really don’t want to complain. Your prince was too much of a good lover, he loved you.

Your hands tugged at his silver hair, urging him closer, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he drew closer to your core. With a reverent touch, he parted your legs, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of you, laid bare before him. His mouth descended, and you cried out, your back arching in response to the exquisite sensation of his tongue tracing intimate paths along your skin.

Your Satoru was relentless, his lips and tongue moving in a dance of worship that left you breathless, lost in a haze of pleasure. Every flick and caress was an echo of his devotion. Each layer broken, each layer conquered connected you deeper to him. He wanted more of you, wanted to discover depths of your cunt that he could make his.

Your small hands clutched at him desperately, nails grazing his scalp as he drove you closer to the edge. The room was filled with the symphony of your moans and gasps, eliciting that inflamed passion that burned between you. You could feel him laugh once more. He was pleased, you think. He discovered another depth of you.

“Please, my love, my prince.” you murmured, a plea that was both a prayer and a command, and Satoru answered with renewed fervor, his touch becoming more insistent, more urgent. He wanted to claim you, to make you his in every sense of the word. “My Satoru!”

“Come, my maiden fair. Feel me whole, my wife. Feel my tongue in you, hm?”

With a final cry, you surrendered to the wave of ecstasy that swept over you, your body shuddering in release as Satoru held you close. His touch was both reassuring and possessive, his powerful presence enveloping you completely. As you reached the peak of pleasure, your body trembled uncontrollably, every nerve alight with the intensity of your climax.

Satoru’s lips were a gentle contrast to his earlier dominance, brushing against your skin as he whispered sweet promises in a voice that was both soothing and commanding. His words were a balm, a reminder of the connection that had brought you to this moment, and the promise of more to come.

His warm tongue traced along your skin, its path leaving a trail of sensation that enraptured you whole. The way he moved, the way his tongue explored every inch of you, was a testament to his unwavering attention and desire. It was as if he was savoring every moment, every taste, committing it to memory.

When he finally parted from you, his eyes met yours with a glint of satisfaction and pride. You could see the evidence of your shared pleasure, the way his chin was slick with your release, glistening in the dim light. The sight was both intimate and overwhelming, a reminder of the depth of your connection and the intensity of what you had just shared.

His expression was one of triumph, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he took in the sight of you, still trembling from the aftershocks of your climax. “Messy, aren’t we?” he teased, his voice a low, teasing drawl. “But oh, so satisfying, isn’t it?”

As you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your ecstasy, Satoru shifted slightly, his movements deliberate and assured. His bright cerulean eyes, still locked on yours, held a promise of more to come, a flicker of desire reigniting as he positioned himself above you once again.

He leaned down, capturing your lips once more, the taste of you still lingering on his tongue. The kiss was both possessive and tender, full of lust and desire for you. Only you. His hands roamed over your body, tracing every curve with a reverent touch, as if memorizing every inch of you all over again.

With a teasing smirk, Satoru broke the kiss, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Ready for more, maiden fair?” His voice was a deep, velvety growl, filled with anticipation and longing.

Before you could respond, he positioned himself at your entrance, you could feel it. You could feel his thick member pressing against you with an insistent pressure. The sensation sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine, your body responding instinctively to the promise of what was to come.

Slowly, deliberately, your Satoru began to push inside you, his cock stretching you once more with an intoxicating mix of pleasure and fullness. The sensation was both familiar and overwhelming. You gasp aloud, as he stills. He was always too big. You feel that each time he claims you, it was a reminder of the power he held over you. A power you will always let him have.

He moved with a steady rhythm, his hips rolling with a controlled grace that left you breathless. Each thrust was a deliberate, measured stroke, filling you completely and driving you further into a haze of pleasure. The heat between you built once more, the friction of his movements reigniting the fire that had momentarily subsided. Your dragon burns you alive with his pleasure and you love it. You adore it.

Satoru’s gaze never left yours, his eyes dark and intense as he watched you with a mixture of pride and satisfaction. The way your body responded to him, the way you opened up to receive him. With every thrust, he drove you closer to the edge, your body arching and writhing beneath him in a dance of passion and surrender. The pleasure was all-consuming, each wave crashing over you with a force that left you gasping and yearning for more.

As your prince continued to move inside you, his pace quickened, his hips snapping against yours with a renewed urgency. The room was filled with the sound of your burning passion, the rhythmic slap of skin against skin. Over and over. You could feel his weight press even more against your body as he dived further inside your cunny.

You could feel yourself nearing the edge once more, the heat and pressure building to a crescendo that threatened to consume you completely. Satoru seemed to sense this, his thrusts becoming more urgent and more demanding as he drove you both toward the end. The rhythm of his movements was relentless, each stroke pushing you closer to that precipice of bliss.

Your fingers tightened around him instinctively, holding on as if he were the only anchor in a sea of overwhelming sensation. His name spilled from your lips in a breathless chant, a testament to the pleasure that coursed through you with every thrust. Satoru’s body was a solid, reassuring presence above you, his muscles flexing with each powerful movement.

The intensity of his speed left you gasping, the relentless pace driving you to the brink of ecstasy. Your body responded eagerly, hips rising to meet each of his forceful thrusts as you clung to him desperately. The room was filled with the sounds of your shared passion, a symphony of moans and gasps that underscored the intensity of the moment.

Satoru’s focus was absolute, his blue haze locked on yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. There was a determination in his eyes, a promise that he would take you both to the heights of pleasure and beyond. Each movement was precise and calculated, his control and power evident in every thrust.

As you approached the peak, the flames of pleasure became all-consuming, it burned you. It drowned you in its tidal wave of sensation that threatened to sweep you both away. The heat and pressure reached a fever pitch, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge, ready to fall into the abyss of ecstasy.

With a final, powerful thrust, Satoru drove you both over the edge, the release crashing over you like a wave. Your body shuddered in his arms, the sensation so intense that it left you breathless and trembling. His own climax followed swiftly, his body tense and shaking as he joined you in the blissful release.

In the aftermath, you lay entwined, the world around you fading into insignificance. The pleasure had left you both utterly satisfied, your bodies still humming with the remnants of ecstasy. As your breaths slowly returned to normal, you found comfort in the warmth of his embrace. Satoru’s fingers gently caressed your skin, his touch a soothing balm in the wake of the storm. His presence was a comforting weight, your everything.

When he was finally relieved, your Satoru rose to meet your gaze, his eyes filled with a tender intensity that left you breathless. He captured your lips in a searing kiss, and you tasted the echoes of your own pleasure on his lips. With every touch, every whispered word, he made it clear that you were his world, his everything.

“Will you wed me? On the morrow?”

Satoru’s question hung in the air, a whisper filled with promise and longing. His eyes searched yours, looking for the answer he already knew but needed to hear. The sincerity in his gaze, the way he held you as if you were the most precious thing in the world, made your heart swell with emotion.

“On the morrow?” you repeated, your voice a mixture of surprise and joy. It was a bold proposition, defying the expectations of the court and the king himself. Of the realm and tradition itself. Yet in Satoru’s arms, those concerns seemed distant, inconsequential.

“Yes, my love.” he replied, his voice steady and sure. “I want the world to know that you are mine, not just in heart but in name. I want them to see you as my wife. Let them see the strength of our bond, the truth of our love.”

The thought of becoming his wife, of sharing a future together free from the shadows of secrecy, sent a thrill through you. You could imagine the look on the faces of those who doubted your place beside him, the satisfaction of proving them wrong with every step you took as his bride. You would become a princess, you would become his queen.

Your mouth opened for a moment, as though ready to say something. But you close it once again. You turned to him, looking into his blue eyes. They were ever so certain, already decided. Ever so clear. His love, it was only for you. His maiden fair. He was only waiting for you. A moment of silence passes you both by.

“I will, my love.” you answered, your voice filled with unwavering certainty. “I will wed you, Satoru, my love, my prince.”

His smile was radiant, a reflection of the joy that filled him. Your chest swells at the happiness that you could see in his face. You don’t think you have ever seen him this happy. He pulled you into another kiss, this one filled with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. It was a promise sealed with the warmth of his lips, a vow that transcended words.

“We will stand together, my love.” Satoru murmured against your mouth, his hands cradling your face with infinite care. “Through whatever flames may come, we will face them as one. I swear to you. I will choose only you.”

The certainty in his words, the unyielding strength of his conviction, wrapped around you like a protective embrace. In this moment, there was no room for doubt or fear—only the promise of a future where love triumphed over all.

As you lay entwined in each other’s arms, you felt a profound sense of peace, knowing that the morrow would bring a new beginning. The path ahead might be fraught with challenges, but with Satoru by your side, you were ready to face them all together. The dragon and the maiden fair.

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galedekarios · 10 months ago

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references in gale's banter on selection

just thought i'd go through a few of his selection lines that stuck out to me.

Oh, what a tangled Weave we web!

reference to: "oh what a tangled web we weave" from a poem by sir walter scott:

"Like so very many of Shakespeare’s lasting observations, it’s a beautifully expressed aphorism that uses just a few words to describe one life experience so perfectly, and is so true, that it enters into the English language and becomes one of its most powerful idioms – one that will last forever. ‘Oh what a tangled web we weave/When first we practice to deceive’ means that when you lie or act dishonestly you are initiating problems and a domino structure of complications which eventually run out of control. The quote is from Scott’s epic poem, Marmion: A Tale of Flodden Field. It’s an historical romance in verse, published in 1808."

the next one is is a play on a line from a shakespeare play:

All the world's my stage and you're just a player in it.

the play is titled 'as you like it' and the line appears in the following monologue:

"All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely Players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His Acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side; His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything."

the next one appears to reference a poem:

The path less travelled.

i think this is in reference to the well-known poem by robert frost, 'the road not taken':

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

i think this ties in well with gale's wanderlust, his wish to explore different worlds and planes of existence.

the next one is a waterdhavian saying, which i already took a closer look at in one of my metas:

'Doth thy mirror crack?' Apparently not.

Early on in his learning of magic, the long-dead and locally famous first Lord (revered in Waterdeep for his role in establishing the city as it is today) Ahghairon said, "I am no wizard. I am a dabbler but no master of magic; it seems no mastery burns within me." These are famous words in Waterdeep, still known by most Waterdhavian children and all adults, and are oft referenced, as in the dry comment "No mastery blazing forth yet," or "A dabbler but no master, eh?" (Comments applied to skill trades and crafts, not just to magic use.) Tuezaera Hallowhand was a famous "lone cat" thief of Waterdeep in the 1200s DR who disappeared suddenly and is thought to have come to a violent end. She once robbed a wizard, and wrote this on his wall with a fingertip dipped in his favorite red wine: "I take things. You take freedom with your spells. Which of us is the greater thief?" This statement, too, is well remembered, and usually echoed in Waterdhavian speech by someone using the last (questioning) sentence of Tuezara's inscription. Laeral, Lady Mage of Waterdeep for some years (when married to Khelben "Blackstaff" Arunsun), once publicly rebuked an overambitious wizard of the Watchful Order of Magists & Protectors thus: "If I hurl spells but think not of consequences, I am nothing. If I take lives but count not the cost, I am nothing. If I steal in the night and see not the faces of the devastated come morning, I am nothing. If I make decrees like a ruler but undertake none of the responsibilities of the throne, I am nothing. And if I do all these things in the name of the Watchful Order, I am less than nothing. Doth thy mirror crack?" These scornful words are remembered and used almost daily in Waterdeep even a century later, though almost never as the full quotation. Rather, someone will ask scornfully, "Doth thy mirror crack?" or "Hurl but think not?" or "Take but not count cost? Be nothing, then!" [source: waterdeep: dragon heist]

i think this one is very neat:

No gloom, all doom.

because i believe it references xan of evereska from baldur's gate 1. xan is infamous for his gloomy nature, often talking about his doom, the folly of the quest, etc. some of his lines include the following:

"We're all doomed! Run while we're still able." "If we are doomed to fail, could we at least do it faster?!" "Eh. Onward, to futility!" "We're all doomed." "Life is so hollow."

i think it's not so unlikely because gale also references other characters from the baldur's gate series and the forgotten realms overall, like elminster:

Elminster's not around, so might as well.

as well as halaster blackcloak, a mad mage residing in the undermountain in waterdeep:

I hope Halaster takes good care of Tara while I'm away.

as well as another character from the games, edwin odeisseron:

Don't make me go all Edwin Odesseiron on you.

edwin, a red wizard of thay, was a companion in baldur's gate 1 and 2.

No rest for the wicked, I see.

a common idiom that originated from the bible:

No rest for the wicked begins as no peace for the wicked in a 1425 rendering of the Old Testament’s Book of Isaiah 48:22: “The Lord God said, peace is not to wicked men.” The sentiment is echoed in Isaiah 57:20, which in the King James Version reads: “But the wicked are like the troubled sea, when it cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt.”

another bible reference may be:

Seek and you shall find me.

You will seek Me and find Me when you search for Me with all your heart.

from jeremiah 29:13.

more folklore than an idiom, but:

The witching hour.

Origins. The phrase "witching hour" began at least as early as 1775, in the poem "Night, an Ode." by Rev. Matthew West, though its origins may go further back to 1535 when the Catholic Church prohibited activities during the 3:00 am and 4:00 am timeframe due to emerging fears about witchcraft in Europe.

i couldn't find the poem in full, but i was able to find the line that references the witching hour:

Along whose banks at Midnight’s witching hour (So wayward Fancy dreams) aerial Beings pour!

another shakespeare reference is:

What fools these mortals be.

which is a line from a midsummer's nights dream:

“Lord, what fools these mortals be!” is used in Act III, Scene 2 of A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare. The line is spoken by one of the best-loved characters in the play–Puck. Here is the short quote in which the line appears in: Captain of our fairy band, Helena is here at hand, And the youth, mistook by me, Pleading for a lover’s fee. Shall we their fond pageant see? Lord, what fools these mortals be! Puck speaks this line to his king, Oberon, while the two are watching the four Athenian main characters lost in the forest. These four lovers, whose love affairs are at the center of the play, are behaving in a way that Puck finds foolish and amusing. It should be noted that Puck bears some of the responsibility for the complicated relations between Helena, Demetrius, Hermia, and Lysander.

this one is, i believe, a dnd reference most likely:

May the dice roll in my favour.

i did however have the immediate association with alea iacta est:

Alea iacta est ("The die is cast") is a variation of a Latin phrase attributed by Suetonius to Julius Caesar on 10 January 49 BCE, as he led his army across the Rubicon river in Northern Italy. With this step, he entered Italy at the head of his army in defiance of the Senate and began his long civil war against Pompey and the Optimates. The phrase, either in the original Latin or in translation, is used in many languages to indicate that events have passed a point of no return. It is now most commonly cited with the word order changed ("Alea iacta est") rather than in the original phrasing. The same event inspired another idiom with the same meaning, "crossing the Rubicon".

Gone with the Weave.

this is a reach, but my mind always went to 'gone with the wind' (margaret mitchell's novel and the 1939 movie adaptation of said novel) when i heard it in the game.

nothing in depth here, i just wanted you all to know that, haha. (((':

A rough tempest I will raise.

this may be another shakespeare reference and this time it's from 'the tempest':

Prospero: Now does my project gather to a head: My charms crack not; my spirits obey; and time Goes upright with his carriage. How's the day? Ariel: On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord, You said our work should cease. Prospero: I did say so, When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit, How fares the king and's followers?

on researching, i found a reddit post that also discusses this likely reference.

the last one i want to end the post on is:

Your knight in magic armour.

this line is still bugged and thus i couldn't find it on the wiki, but it's an assist line for a romanced protag.

it obviously referenced the knight in shining armour:

The present-day use of this phrase is, of course, figurative and refers back to the notion of gallant knights saving fair maidens in distress. The reality behind that imagery is dubious and it no doubt owes much to the work of those Victorian novelists and painters who were captivated by the chivalrous ideal of an imagined court of Camelot. Nevertheless, knights did wear armour and that worn by royalty and the high nobility was highly polished and did in fact gleam and shine. The earliest reference that I’ve found to the phrase in print dates from the late 18th century – in The British journal The Monthly Review, 1790, in a poem called Amusement: A Poetical Essay, by Henry Pye: No more the knight, in shining armour dress’d Opposes to the pointed lance his breast

but it also features heavily in art, across various periods in time, like these from john william waterhouse:

i did see someone on reddit also discussing the creator and destroyer line in reference to various deities throughout history, which i thought was interesting as well.

anyhow, thank you for reading! i may have overlooked something so feel free to add your own thoughts!

🖤

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 meta #ch: gale dekarios #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3

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pseudoquiddity · 7 days ago

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Wait, hold on, I want to talk about Marxism and the Kains. If you will bear with me. And if you will also let go of/forget the Omelas child because I don't think the Kains want that kind of utopia, either.

For the Kains, the town was made as a focus to capture a "mystical manifestation of a world inscrutable and inaccessible for men" because sometimes, that impossible, fantasy world collides with the mundane. Example: mundane materials from mundane flesh-and-blood people created the Polyhedron, which houses genuine "mystical manifestations" and is "inscrutable."

When Maria says that Utopia requires "dirt, blood, manure, devourment, skins, meat, and bone tools," she means that it's part of the creation, not the product. Literally what the Kains want is an eclipse-like event brought about by a miracle and then captured to be used as a Utopia. Here's the timeline:

create the mundane town -> create a society wherein there exists two conflicting groups, devourers and creators, that live together -> the sustained existence of this is a miracle -> the "mystical world" eclipse is here and needs to be captured -> build a structure to house the miracle -> they build the Cathedral but it's not good enough -> the Kains fail.

This is why people in the game refer to the Kains as a cult because, to them, the true metamorphosis of utopia isn't "the dream of mercantile prosperity, sensible social structure, or political fairness." It's not Thomas More's or anybody's draft of a well-structured world - there is no Omelas, there is no child - it's this tenth-dimension reality that already exists in our world but is so inconceivable to us that it's invisible. In the sense that antibiotics have always existed in our world, even before they were made - we just couldn't always conceptualize of them. True Utopia is this on an unimaginably macro level.

The Kains suddenly, surprisingly succeed in the creation of the Polyhedron. They capture a miracle and can finally interact with and view it. This is the start of their Final Utopia.

Where the human rights abuses kick in is not in the product but in the creation of a Final Utopia.

This is what Georgiy (or Simon) has to say about it in the Marble Nest:

"My heart aches for [the dead]. This is dreadfully cruel. But perhaps the thing we are trying to build can only be erected with the help of those who have passed it - the exam of death. Who has learned not to fight it, like you do; not to deny it, but rather ... Embed it into themselves. Use it. Humanity has learned to use the law of gravity, hasn't it? There is your proof, just look out of the window. There was a time when humans could not brave the sky. But that time has passed."

So the idea here is that progress (toward an existence so advanced it is impossible, unthinkable) requires suffering. It requires poverty so that it can learn from poverty, dying so that we can learn to stop it. Imagine that we are in Dankovsky's future, where everyone is immortal; we are dependent on the pre-existence of death. All forms of dying were integral to this future.

In the same way that communism requires capitalism so that it can learn from the suffering of capitalism (according to Marx).

What Georgiy has to say about "not fighting the exam" is Marx's approach to history.

"Achieving modern levels of civilization required ancient chattel slavery and/or similar systems of brutal exploitation, misery and subjugation to begin the process of material accumulation that led to further innovation and cultural advance. Thus the broad historical alternatives are either justice on the basis of atomized farming at the eternal mercy of nature, or slavery and similar systems of brutality with the ultimate result of reaching modern civilizations." - Jeffrey Vogel

This is also not in dismissal of suffering, either.

"No such justificatory reasons are available for those who are required to sacrifice themselves on behalf of human progress. ... It is implausible to expect self-respecting slaves to regard our benefit as a sufficient reason for the sacrifice of their one life on earth." - Jeffrey Vogel (again. i'd recommend reading this article)

The tragedy of history is that liberty needs to be prioritized over justice in order for the creation of true communism. Communism, or utopia, or whatever the Kains are making, needs to benefit off the pain of those who never get to see it. And nobody has to like it, or feel okay about it. As Georgiy says, "this is dreadfully cruel."

Here I am at the plate, and not to "go up to bat" for more deeply flawed Pathologic characters, but the reason why the Kains are left-leaning is because they are Marxist, but the ugly kind of Marxist that isn't only about overthrowing capitalism and ignoring what came before it; how communism, in many ways, should thank capitalism - not like it, but thank it.

tl;dr, we all want utopia or an ideal state of living and the kains are people who don't ignore that ideal living stems from miserable injustices (I do also think that the Kains take missteps in their own Marxist philosophy because of interpersonal reasons - ie sometimes those injustices happen to them, too, and they don't like it - nobody does! they struggle on their strings)

tl;dr dankovsky goes home and kills himself not because the utopian future is ruled by conservative futurists but because he cannot morally justify the process it took to get there within himself. if utopia requires death than he'd prefer to join the dead. this is not the world for him.

tl;dr russian game is russian

#pathologic #daniil dankovsky #man-of-letters #does this make sense. it makes sense to me i mean. but do i need to explain more #i want to read Nights of Plague has anyone else read it can they vouch

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ikeoji-subs · 10 months ago

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Zettai BL Ni Naru Sekai VS Zettai BL Ni Naritakunai Otoko 2024 - Episode 1 Eng Sub

VS PHYSICAL CONTACT and VS HALLOWEEN

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translation notes:

about Mob’s eyebeams (3:47)

Maybe I just think I see tokusatsu references everywhere, but I think there’s an Easter egg of sorts in episode 1. After Mob comes back to himself and celebrates having escaped L’ing a B, he runs through a field beside the airport and some sort of laser beams shoot out of his eyes. The beams are two different colors: red and blue. I suspect this is a reference to Kamen Rider Build, in which Inukai Atsuhiro played the lead rider (also called Kamen Rider Build). Build had a number of forms (different suits, basically) that had different colors and features. The one he’s best known for (the one that comes up at the top of your results if you google “Kamen Rider Build,” among other things) is his “RabbitTank” form, which is half blue and half red, with one blue eye and one red one.

Kamen Rider Build in RabbitTank form

It’s particularly appropriate for them to reference Build in this show since Inukai’s character on that show, Kiryu Sento, had a pretty ship-y relationship with Banjou Ryuga, a character played by Akaso Eiji from Cherry Magic. At the time, the phrase “a heated relationship between men” was used to describe how they related to each other, and Kamen Rider fans have referenced it ever since when things between two Kamen Rider dudes seem “heated.” The fact that both actors went on to be BL legends is very fitting. And it makes this reference even more appropriate for Zettai BL.–Towel

Inukai Atsuhiro and Akaso Eiji as Kiryu Sento and Banjou Ryuga, toku boyfriends

about “pretending to be possessive” (07:08)

Mob actually says that Ayato is pretending to have a “brother complex,” sometimes abbreviated (as Mob does here) as “brocon.” While this concept is somewhat Western due to its roots in psychoanalysis, it has a specific meaning in Japanese culture that you don't find elsewhere. It describes an obsessive attachment to one’s brother that may include possessiveness and jealousy toward the brother’s romantic partners. Brother complexes are classically associated with sisters, but it’s no surprise that a brother might be expected to have a brother complex in BL World.

To be clear, though, Mob doesn’t believe that Ayato actually has a brother complex. He thinks he’s pretending to have one so that he’ll have an excuse to act out his actual possessive feelings about Toujou, brought on by Toujou touching Mob.

Instead of assuming all viewers would be familiar with the idea of the “brother complex,” we decided to describe what Mob is saying in terms of Ayato’s pretending to be possessive. But knowing the specific reference Mob was making here should help to get a more nuanced sense of the meaning of this line.–Towel

It's also relevant to say that in spoken Japanese almost anything can become a "con". Such as brocon, siscon, lolicon, etc.–Snow

about “fair prince” (6:18)

Snow explained to me that Toujou was described here using a word that's associated with classical and poetic Japanese. Historically, it was used to refer to lords and ladies, and it's particularly common in classical Japanese literature. In modern media, it's often used in period dramas and may be used in contemporary settings to describe the person being referred to as admirable in some way. Since it has multiple meanings with specific connotations and various points of reference in Japanese culture, there was no direct equivalent of this in English. Translating it literally word-for-word wouldn't get the point across at all.

I tried to think about what an equivalent type of literature would be in an English-speaking context and what sorts of words or phrases would bring those things to mind. I tried to see if I could get one or two Early Modern English words in there (the kind of English Shakespeare spoke). I also looked for a link to Toujou’s rose motif by checking some famous rose-related quotes from older literary periods. But neither of those methods yielded anything that fit.

Then I started to think about fairy tales, which gave me the idea of calling him a “prince.” I added “fair,” not for any reason related to his coloring (though it’s somewhat appropriate given his blondness) but because it made the description sound a lot more antiquated and fairy tale-ish. Later in the episode, when a similar description was applied to Toujou in his vampire costume, it made perfect sense to make him a “dark prince” instead.–Towel

Tag list: @c1nto @my-rose-tinted-glasses @twig-tea @sorry-bonebag @porridgefeast @bengiyo @lurkingshan @wen-kexing-apologist

#zettai bl #zettai bl 3 #zettai bl 2024 #zettai bl ni naru sekai vs zettai bl ni naritakunai otoko #a man who defies the world of bl #kamen rider build

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chinesegal · 5 months ago

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It has been pointed out that Vivziepop's designs look "soulless" because instead of looking to real life for inspiration she just copies whatever stuff from whatever she's into. I brought this up during an argument with a stan who replied with saying that my mindset is "boring", telling me "so you're saying characters can't be cartoony". This wasn't what I meant at all, but to be fair I've got a difficult time defining what I mean.

It's just that regardless of how cartoony and stylized your artstyle is, you need to look at how real humans look in order to draw characters well, as well as look into clothing and fashion styles that you're not into.

Characters drawn by Vivziepop almost always wear either generic suits and bowties or scene kid or goth fashion, with spiky hair and ripped clothing even if it doesn't make sense. Take Alastor for example, his haircut isn't something men wore during the 20s-30s, and what's more he has zero black features despite being supposed to be a mixed black man, including Emily, Sera and Velvette.

On the other hand, fanartists who redesign the HB characters often research historical fashions and trends for their designs, and keep in mind the character's backstory. Husk is an older man in his 70s and an alcoholic, but this isn't reflected in his canon design who looks more like a surly teen. In fan redesigns he's often fat with a gut and has baggy eyes and mangy fur like many older cats.

So I would say that what makes looking at the real world for inspiration important is because it makes sure you avoid falling into the trap of only drawing stuff stuff that appeal to you, and as a result the designs become boringly repetitive cuz they all have the same color scheme, outfit and design language. It gives the impression that the artist doesn't know anything exists outside of their personal preferences.

#character design #vivziepop critical #helluva boss critical #hazbin hotel critical

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iiseult · 10 months ago

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𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐹𝒾𝓋𝑒: 𝒢𝑜𝓁𝒹𝑒𝓃 𝒞𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓈

CWs → FLUFF, angst, depression, themes of war and death, historical inaccuracies, slow burn, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, eventual smut (once reader and baldwin are both over 18), leprosy, time-period accurate sexism

Wordcount: 3.5k

Note: For those of you who have been waiting for actual fluff for like five chapters, I hope this is satisfactory. The next chapter is probably going to involve smut, so maybe that will give you something else to look forward to! Enjoy!

The following days were the darkest you had ever known. The palace was eerily silent, half of the staff left with nothing to do in the absence of their King. There were no more tears, and no more talking– there was only waiting, agonizing waiting. You could not bring yourself to leave the fortified stone walls of your home, not necessarily for fear of a raid by Saladin’s troops, but more for fear of leaving your post at your window and missing a sign that Baldwin might be returning. Whatever that sign might be– a flag, a cross, a messenger, you didn’t know– but you would surely know once you saw it.

For that reason you took all of your meals in your bedchamber, dressed perpetually in a white linen nightgown. Though she had tried and tried, claiming that looking better would also help you to feel better, Matilda could not convince you to get dressed. To you, there was no longer any reason to get dressed and presentable, let alone get out of bed. The only thing that could help you now was seeing your husband living and breathing, in the flesh. So in this way, the days faded dimly into dark nights, and those dark nights into fair-weathered days, whose blissful sunlight and blue skies mocked you and every other citizen of Jerusalem. Still he did not return. You stayed at your window for hours every night, fighting the heaviness of your eyelids and the sag in your shoulders, but inevitably passing into the realm of sleep from pure exhaustion, hunched over the sill with your head resting on your arms. You would wake in that exact same position every morning, accompanied by aches and pains in your muscles.

One night, there was thunder. You thought bitterly that it would be the perfect weather to reflect your brooding and negative mental state, that it only made sense for there to be a rainstorm, bring it on, but then there was the issue of there not being a single rain cloud in the sky. It was the clear amber sky of an autumn evening just around sunset, annoyingly picturesque, and dappled with only pink and orange stratus clouds. But there was the thunder, a deep, constant rumbling, perhaps growing even louder by the minute. Yes, you were certain now your ears were not playing tricks on you and that it was growing closer and closer, resounding low, and sustaining. In fact, you could feel its very vibrations rattling your teeth in their sockets. A flame of hope ignited in your heart.

You leapt to your feet and ran to the window, and you saw over the horizon a dark mass approaching. It was as if the raincloud you had ben searching for was on the ground instead, rolling in for the storm. But it was not a raincloud. It was an army.

The first rider appeared, distinct from the others because he was moving ahead of them. The thunder was the sound of a thousand horses’ hooves hitting the ground. Your heart dropped and your eyes frantically searched for a flag or an emblem, anything that could tell you which army this was. Given the circumstances of the battle, a large, very logical part of you knew it was Saladin and his men. The low chances of Baldwin’s 4,000 poorly trained soldiers beating out Saladin’s 20,000 had been present in your mind all along. However, the tiny part of you that was illogical needed proof, needed confirmation that it was not simply the soldiers of Jerusalem, returning home in glory.

Now you could see more horses, more soldiers, a score more than you had ever seen at one time before, all charging in your direction, creating a terrific rumbling sound that drowned out all else. Then appearing from over the horizon was the sign you had been searching for; the flaming golden cross of Jerusalem! They had come home! Tears sprang to your eyes as you watched that beautiful God-blessed cross-bearer speed past the stone palace walls and onto the grounds, followed by a steady stream of warriors. You swallowed back tears to avoid your vision clouding over and watched in amazement as that indistinguishable mass of soldiers transformed into a group of individuals, each a man with his own thoughts and feelings and loved ones. Your heart jumped back up into your throat from where it had fallen earlier. Jerusalem was victorious, they had won! But had he survived?

You tore your eyes away from the window and began to run, throwing open your bedroom door carelessly. As you did, you saw that you were apparently not the only one who had noticed the troops upon their return, and the hallways were abuzz with life. Servants ran about here and there, clamoring to see out the windows and catch a glimpse of the cross that they so loved, so they could see and believe the good news for themselves. Some laughed, and some cried. Matilda was there. You ran by her as you barrelled down the long corridor, heading for the grand staircase. She called after you, but her voice only succeeded in falling in with the muddled cries of all the others, exclaiming as they were. Shouts of jubilation echoed off the impressively high ceilings and carried throughout the space, filling it entirely. It was a beautiful sound.

You descended the staircase quickly, quickly, dizzy from the spiral shape of it, your legs pumping as best they could. Another pair of footsteps followed in your wake, and Matilda’s calls persisted, but the rushing of blood in your ears overpowered all else. Finally, you rounded the last bend and came out into the downstairs corridor, illuminated by flickering torches mounted in wall sconces. They threw your shadow large and imposing against the flagstones, making it almost seven feet tall, and dancing wildly in the wind you created in your haste. Matilda could not keep up.

The giant oak doors of the entrance loomed above you, very stately, and so impressive that they usually required multiple boy servants to open them. It was held closed by a series of iron bars, chains, and bolts, which shone in the orange light, challenging you to best them. You got to unhooking the lower latches that you could reach and called for someone to handle the higher ones. A wide-eyed servant boy, though very much afraid of you, rushed to your aid, quickly sliding the bolts and turning the locks above your head. Soon, they were all undone, and rather than wait for the boy to find another to assist him, you slammed your shoulder against the giant, solid slab of wood and grunted, “help me!”

“Your Majesty!” The boy called, panic evident in his voice, “Please allow me to find a-” But you cut him off before he could finish that sentence, growling in frustration and shooting him a menacing glare. He gulped and without further ceremony, helped you push open the doors. As soon as the crack between them was large enough, letting a sliver of fading daylight paint the flagstones pink and yellow, you pushed through them, out into the real world. The boy rushed after you, and behind him was Matilda, something clutched in her hands.

Summoning all your strength, you ran, gulping down great lungfuls of the smoky evening air. Your eyes searched, wide and unblinking, as your legs carried you closer to the legion of armor-clad men on horseback. Besides about a thousand identically-shaped silhouettes, you couldn't make out much of anything in detail. No way to tell yet, you had to get closer. Your feet slapped the earth, bare as they were, the sound ringing out shrilly in your ears. The soft flesh stung and turned pink, but you were becoming numb to external stimuli and it made no difference. Your arms swung wildly at your sides, and your hair, whipped into coils by the wind, lashed at your face. There was a growing ache in your chest, but still, you were getting closer. So close that now, you could make out a figure. And suddenly, he was there.

You knew him immediately by his silver mask, glowing in the sun, and his billowing white robes, though they were stained with sprays of brown and red. You ran and ran to him, calling his name and waving your arms, hoping to capture his attention, but it was all so very unnecessary. He had seen you the second you barrelled through those doors, known you by the shape of your body and your movements, even at such a great distance. Quickly, but as if moving in a dream, he brought his stallion to its knees and dismounted sloppily, nearly tripping in his haste, but it was no matter. His mask slipped, lubricated by his sweat, but he paid it no mind. In dreams, he was never able to move fast enough, as if his muscles were stuck in molasses, always preventing him from getting where he needed to be. This time was much the same. He simply could not reach you fast enough, could not feel the safety of being in your arms soon enough. But he ran, his feet digging into the ground, desperate to find purchase, beating into the soft earth viciously. His heart pounded just as hard against his ribcage, which had already sustained a brutal battering earlier during the battle. But now he could make out your face just a little, the curve of your nose and the dark line of your lips.

The white linen rippled frantically around his flaming, aching body, which he pushed to its absolute limit, trembling from exhaustion though it was. Faster, he commanded it, faster! And somehow, it listened.

The two of you drew closer and closer until you could see the way his mask was askew, dangling around his throat like a gaudy, oversized necklace. He seized it in his gloved hand and ripped it away carelessly, breaking the string that held it to him and letting it fall. It hit the ground with a dull thud and rolled away. As your teary-eyed smile came into focus, he desperately clawed at his hood and chainmail veil, discarding those, too, in one fell swoop. Those golden tresses, caked in sweat and blood, sand and earth, rain and battle, flowed freely behind him, cleansed by the wind.

Then you were upon him, there in your nightgown and unwashed, untethered hair and without any shoes, and yet with the biggest smile he’d ever seen, and could all of that really be for him?

You collided with him roughly, unable to stop due to the momentum, and you heard a puff of air pass his lips. A sob passed yours. For the first time, you knew what it felt like to throw your arms around his bare neck and hold him close, and to cry into his shoulder. He held you, too, a bit hesitant and stiff at first, but soon he softened. His arms wrapped around you and his hands rested on your shoulder blades, and he cried. It was silent save for the few sniffs he gave. He let go of himself and buried his nose in your hair, inhaling your warm, rosy scent straight from the source, tears sliding down his golden-blond lashes and landing softly in your hair. He said nothing. Everything he wanted to say, you had already read from his letters. It was your turn to talk.

“I read them,” you cried miserably, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes. So much regret, so much wasted time. He knew it all, he saw it there.

“I read them all, and I love you,” you said, then redoubled your efforts, burying your face in him and drawing him somehow closer. He almost believed that his arms would slip right through you and you’d vanish any second, so he cherished every second of your warmth. But you didn’t. You stayed. He broke away for a second, only to sigh in impatience and violently rip off his gloves, whipping them to the ground behind him. The satin sank into the mud.

With his naked hands he carefully, almost timidly, stroked the small of your back. It was something he’d always wanted to do. He did this until he was fully convinced you were real, and here, and not just a pleasant vision conjured up by his post-battle delusion. But you felt firm and warm and alive beneath his hands, the fabric of your nightgown the very thinnest of barriers.

He slid his palms up to your cheeks and looked into your eyes. So full of love, they were, full of fear and relief and joy and love. You gasped, feeling his calloused hands burning their print into your cheeks. He grinned at the privilege of touching his flesh to your very own. You parted your lips, wanting to say something, but you could make no sound. You could only stare wide-eyed at each other, loving in silence.

Behind Baldwin, his army stood still and looked on. Their horses stamped but did not move. The men did not know what to think, or how to behave. On the one hand, they were witnessing something very special; the pure, young love of their master and his betrothed. On the other hand, they were staring at a lady dressed in only undergarments, sharing an intimate moment with her man. Some of them blushed, and some smiled. But nobody, absolutely nobody, could bring themselves to look away.

Over your shoulder, Baldwin could see the palace staff lined up in front of the great doors, some hunched over in tears of relief and joy, others standing tall and triumphant, filled with pride for their nation. Among the latter were his lady sister Sybilla and her son, and Matilda and Amelia, though they were too far away for him to see. Still clutched in Matilda’s hands were a pair of your shoes, which she had been intending to give to you to put on before you ran outside. As soon as she heard the army approaching, she’d known you would abandon everything and go to him.

Baldwin pulled you into his side with his left arm, and with his right, he cupped a hand around his mouth and shouted to the sky, his voice ringing clear across the field, “Today, we have won a great victory!”

In an instant, the field erupted into cheers and shouts of rejoicing, almost deafening in volume. You laughed and smiled up at your husband, whose eyes reflected the pink and purple sunset on the horizon. Then he led you towards the castle, just the same way you had come before, only slowly and fulfilled this time. As you looked at him, your eye caught a glint of something gold and glittering against the bare skin of his neck.

“Heavenly Father, thank you.”

Together, you walked home.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

A feast was thrown to celebrate Jerusalem’s victory, and for the first time in over a year, Baldwin sat at the head of the table with his Queen at his side. He wore no mask, and no bandages on his face, and he was adorned only by the golden crown that sat atop his cornsilk curls. So many nobles had greeted the two of you that you lost count, but there was one man in particular that stood out, and his name was Reynald de Chatillon.

His beard was red and scraggly, spreading across his chin like a wildfire and complimenting the equally red hue of his face. In fact, his skin was florid all over; it wasn’t limited to just his face, though his pudgy cheeks were mottled with patches of red, and full of craters left behind by the pox he’d had as a boy. The pox had almost killed him, but it seemed nothing could snuff out his lifeforce, least of all a silly illness, so he just went on living. The same was true of him when you met him at the feast. Despite his constant brushes with death on the battlefield, he was likely the most alive person in that room. An insane, cruel look glinted in his perpetually open, bloodshot eyes– you weren’t sure you ever saw him blink– and his lips shined wetly beneath his mustache, for he was constantly licking them, his fat pink tongue darting out of the corner of his mouth like some kind of tic. But it wasn’t a nervous tick, and that you could be sure of, because Reynald de Chatillon was never nervous. He was a warlord, equally bloodthirsty and wine-thirsty. Mean, short, fat, and clever, though he didn’t look it. Perhaps therein lied his power. You shuddered to think of how he must appear to his enemies. Thankfully, he was on your side, at least for now.

Reynald entered with his wife, two sons, and three daughters in tow, and to your surprise the girls were rather delicate and pretty, despite harboring the genes of their brutish father. Each of them had fine and flowing red-blonde hair and fair skin, indicating a life of luxury. Both sons were brawny and imposing, though one was much taller than the other, and perhaps more slender. But absolutely none of the children inspired fear the way their father did. You decided that you did not like him, but at that moment, you couldn’t help but at least respect him, just a little. After all, he was apparently an integral part of Baldwin’s army, given the fact that he was invited to the feast, and you had heard that he was one of the main forces that had led Jerusalem to its bloody victory.

Just as everyone had said, Baldwin was an excellent King, as you came to see for yourself that evening. He held himself with grace and humility, and his kindness inadvertently demanded the respect of others. In a way, he was just as powerful and intimidating as Reynald, but he greeted his soldiers and knights with gentle, welcoming words and tasteful compliments. You couldn’t bite back your smile as you watched him interact with his guests. It truly was just as you had been told. He was a great King, and a great man. You hoped you could be an equally good Queen.

Though you were each too busy greeting and entertaining guests to really converse, you and Baldwin stole secret glances at each other whenever there was a second to be spared. Sometimes those seconds between you lined up, causing you to accidentally make fleeting eye contact, only to both look away hastily, knowing you’d been caught by the other. He’d blush, and you’d fiddle with your sleeves, and as subtle as you might have thought you were being, most everyone noticed anyway. To see a young King Queen, so green behind the ears and so obviously infatuated with each other, was something to be read about in fairy tales and great love stories from ancient times, but not to be seen in person. Reynald’s daughters whispered to each other and giggled behind their hands. It was a bit of a scandal.

When the feast had finally concluded and the last drunken guests trickled out of the great hall and to their respective rooms where they were put up for the night, you and Baldwin finally turned to look at each other without embarrassment. A grin spread across his face, and then one broke across yours, too. Finally, a moment alone.

Since his return, the two of you had decided to drop the formalities and titles, opting to simply call each other by name, at least when you were in private. He took both of your hands in his and held them gently.

“Y/N, you make such a wonderful Queen.”

You couldn’t help but beam.

“You are the most perfect King. And everybody says so, Baldwin.”

He looked down at the table, shaking his head and blushing a little, but his smile never faltered. Then he furrowed his brow, opening his mouth quickly as if he were about to say something, and then thought better of it and closed his lips again. You raised an eyebrow and squeezed his hand gently.

“What is it? You were going to say something.”

He smiled a little and only shook his head, still gazing down at the table, but you persisted. “You can tell me anything, you know. I’m your wife. Now, please,” you urged. He looked up at you, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes as he raised his head again. He held your hands a bit tighter for support and took a shaky breath before asking, “Would you…maybe…want to sleep in my room tonight?”

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