#and full magic of it is way too subtle to be reflected just like that but i still wanna share even if merely a hundredth of it

[captain-hawks]

BRIGHT AS THE MORNING/SOFT AS THE RAIN.

jean kirstein x f!reader

Jean Kirstein may have sharp teeth—but he seems to forget that you do, too. 

wc: 3.9k tags: 18+ only, wolf shifter!jean, witch!reader, little witch as a pet name, enemies to lovers, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie, multiple orgasms, semi-public sex, outdoor sex, sex against a wall -> requested

No turning back now.

The glass vial is cool against your fingertips when you pull it from your back pocket, uncorking the stopper before bringing it to your lips and tipping its pale green contents onto your tongue. You fight back the full body shiver that threatens to wrack through you as the bitter liquid burns its way down your throat.

It tastes awful. 

Flicking the empty container into a nearby garbage bin, you hastily wipe the back of your hand across your mouth, making a mental note to include a neutral additive next time you find yourself thumbing your way through your grandmother’s crumbling grimoire. The old coven never did pay any mind to the foul taste of their ancient elixirs. 

Eyes darting to the neon sign hanging above the building across the street, its colors reflecting in the puddles strewn about the sidewalk out front, you sigh. Now for the annoying part. 

You dog-eared the page on this vitality spell years ago, intrigued by the rejuvenating properties of the concoction that your grandmother’s gnarled old hands had once made use of in days long past. Most of the ingredients were easy enough to procure, and the elixir need only be saved for the full moon for maximum potency. A moon that hangs bright and heavy over a blissfully clear, star-speckled sky tonight. 

But the reason why you’ve put off this tempting spell for so long is the final ingredient that you’ve now begrudgingly come to collect—shifter saliva.

Wolf shifter saliva, to be exact. 

When you step through the front doors of the bar, you wrinkle your nose at the decidedly canine scent that invades your nostrils. Not that it can be helped, given that you’ve purposely chosen an establishment frequented by them to make this as quick and transactional as possible. 

It’s not particularly ideal—traipsing around in a building full of wolf shifters on the full moon. While the waxing and waning crescent does not dain to dictate their transformations, their power finds an apex, just as yours does, on nights like this. You can feel the buzz of it in the air, licking against your skin, the tendrils of magic bearing an earthen touch. 

It takes you all of ten minutes spent perched on a stool at the end of the bar to find yourself confidently approached by what appears to be an easy contender. A shifter who introduced himself as Eren now sits beside you, his dark brown hair half pulled back into a messy bun, knee lightly brushing against your own in a way that treads the line between a polite mistake and a subtle invitation. 

He’s cute, and he’s caught your interest enough that you might even be willing to let him get a hand or two up your shirt when you inevitably stumble your way into a bathroom or alleyway to make out and swap spit. Nobody said you couldn’t at least try to get some enjoyment out of this, after all. 

That is, until the last voice that you’re expecting to hear on this fine evening unceremoniously interrupts your conversation from somewhere behind you.

“And what do we have here?”

Stiffening, you turn to face none other than the head of the Trost pack in all of his annoyingly handsome and insufferable glory—Jean Kirstein.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter under your breath.

Jean ignores your comment, though there’s not a single doubt in your mind that his wolfy hearing picks up every word loud and clear.

“I think Armin’s looking for you,” he tells Eren.

Eren raises a brow, taking a slow sip from the glass in his hand. “Nah, I doubt that.”

He returns his gaze to you, but Jean steps closer, putting an arm around his shoulder as he leans in. “She’ll eat you alive, Jaeger. You know what she is, don’t you?”

Eren smiles, canine teeth on full display; it’s less friendly and more of a challenge. “I’m a big boy, Kirstein.”

Jean’s eyes flash, and he murmurs just loud enough for you to hear, “Take a fucking hint.” 

There’s nothing remotely cordial in his tone now. 

The two men are quiet as they stare at one another, the air thick with tension, and you can almost feel the shift when Eren’s hackles finally drop as he seems to think better of challenging Jean’s dominance. Looking at them side by side, you can’t say you blame him, though you’re loath to admit it. 

“Whatever man.”

Eren offers you an apologetic nod, shooting Jean one last annoyed look before he disappears into the din of the bustling crowd. Meanwhile, the pack leader slides into the now-empty seat without preamble, all long limbs and unnervingly bright eyes, the sight of his messy brown hair and the hint of stubble on his jaw bothering you for reasons you have no desire to examine. 

“Really?” you bite out. 

Jean doesn’t answer you right away. Instead, he picks up Eren’s cup and takes a sip, lips immediately curling downward in disgust as he puts it back down and makes a brief gesture in the direction of the bartender. It’s only once a glass full of something else is placed in front of him that he finally looks at you.

“Hm?”

You wonder just how much trouble you’d land yourself in for punching a pack leader right here in the middle of a shifter bar. He takes a long pull from the glass, clicking his tongue against his teeth in satisfaction after.

Yeah, you’re definitely going to punch him.

“What the fuck was that about?”

Jean shrugs, smoothly dragging a coaster toward his drink with his middle finger and wiping away the ring of condensation left behind on the dark wood countertop with the side of his hand. When his eyes meet yours, the light brown of his irises nearly gold in this light, something hot unfurls in your chest. 

“Believe me when I say you don’t want to fuck Eren Jaeger,” he replies evenly.

You scoff. “I wasn’t going to fuck him.”

He raises a brow and says nothing.

“I was just going to…why the fuck does this even concern you anyway, Kirstein?” you snap. 

Elbow now placed on the counter, he leans his cheek into the palm of his hand, like he has nowhere better to be than mercilessly cockblocking you on a Friday night. 

It’s ironic, really, given the origin of your perpetual disdain for him. 

Maybe it’s a bit immature to hate a guy for turning down your tipsy advances on a night out with your friends. 

They were all convinced he’d been staring at you from across the room for the better part of the evening. But the rough scrape of his words against the shell of your ear when you finally found the courage to approach him still echoes in the recesses of your mind all these years later—”Go home and sober up, little witch.”

It’s always bothered you more than it should, the sting of that casual rejection. Like he couldn’t even be bothered to entertain a moment of your company, if not a drunken kiss that would have very well been a dime a dozen at a place like that anyway. 

What made it worse was all of the subsequent times you’ve had the misfortune of running into him after. He makes a game of it, flirting with you. Calling you little witch. Like he wants to subtly remind you of how you embarrassed yourself that night, to toy with you just for the sake of driving you to the brink of the relentless, burning ire you feel in waves every time you see him now. 

“I know you have some problem with shifters, and you’re here on a goddamn full moon of all nights. So I’m just trying to make sense of this,” he says. 

You narrow your eyes. “I have a problem with you.”

He puts his shoe on the metal rung of your stool beside your right foot, voice dripping with sarcasm as he replies, “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you can feel the tug of the unfinished spell swirling restlessly inside of you. Waiting. “I need wolf saliva.”

Jean’s brows shoot up, and it would almost be comical, if you weren’t so goddamn annoyed. He recovers just as quickly. “So you thought you’d waltz in here, suck face with some poor, unsuspecting pup for a bit and then break his little heart when you skip off back to your coven with your special ingredient?”

Well, he’s not wrong, per se. 

“Oh, is that why you barged in on my conversation? You were worried about me hurting Eren’s feelings after I let him cop a feel in one of those dingy bathrooms over there?”

You swear Jean’s eye fucking twitches.

“Jaeger’s a bastard, and he’s not worth your time.”

A flash of hot anger prickles over your skin. “Why is who I kiss suddenly any of your concern now, Kirstein?” 

You place emphasis on the ’now’ without quite meaning to.

Jean’s nostrils flare as he inhales. Without another word, he gets up and walks away.

And for whatever godforsaken reason, you stalk after him, fists tightly clenched at your sides.

After weaving through the crowd, you find yourself standing in the deserted back alley behind the building. You quickly regret your decision not to grab your jacket from the hook beside the door on your way out of your apartment, the air much more brisk now than it was when you left. 

Jean whirls to face you, the look on his face softening a fraction when he sees the way you’ve wrapped your arms around yourself. He tugs off his leather jacket without fanfare, draping it around your shoulders before you have a chance to protest.

You hate how good it smells—the rich, woodsy scent that you’ve long-since come to associate with him, its musky notes almost dizzying at this dangerous proximity.  

And as you unconsciously finding yourself soaking in the residual warmth that lingers in the material, you’re reminded of just how very hot shifters run. 

“Walking away in the middle of a conversation is generally considered rude amongst most species,” you mutter, leaning on the brick wall and bending a knee to press a foot flat against it.  

Jean drags a hand through his hair. “There are some conversations I prefer to have beyond the vicinity of a bunch of nosey wolves with good hearing.”

“What, you didn’t want your friends overhearing a witch tell you what a gigantic asshole you are?” you drawl. 

Sighing heavily, he runs a hand over his face. “I find it mildly infuriating that you have zero fucking sense of self-preservation and thought that fooling around with a shifter you don’t even know during a goddamn full moon is somehow a good idea.”

He makes finger quotes at the last two words, and for whatever reason, that’s your last straw this evening. 

Jean Kirstein may have sharp teeth—but he seems to forget that you do, too. 

“Go fuck yourself, Kirstein,” you grit out. “I’m not even going to pretend to understand whatever kind of twisted amusement you get out of mocking me at every given chance. But do me a favor and go stick your mangy nose in someone else’s business, and maybe I will go back inside and fuck a shifter after all. There sure are plenty in there to choose from.”

Between one breath and the next, the space between you and Jean rapidly dissipates as he crowds you against the building, one hand resting beside your head.

“I don’t give a shit about whatever witchy little spell you’ve got cooking. I’m not letting any of those moon drunk idiots touch you,” he rasps.

His words do something to you, something that has rogue electricity expelling its way down your spine. Something that has you biting the inside of your cheek. 

Something that makes it difficult to breathe.

“I already drank the elixir. I’ll probably get sick if I don’t finish the spell,” you retort. 

The now-golden shade of Jean’s eyes up close is mesmerizing in a way that has your heart trembling against the shackles of your ribcage.

It makes sense right now—why your grandmother used to warn you about the wiles of shifters. 

He huffs a small laugh, a warm puff of air filling the space between your faces. “You sure are confident.”

You glare at him, at the jab that you know the comment is meant to be. “Can you just let me go take care of this? It’s a harmless spell that’s the equivalent of a witchy energy drink. I’m sure you can point out at least one half decent shifter in there for me to chat up.”

Jean tucks part of his plush bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. “Why didn’t you just ask me?”

You can’t help it—you bark out a laugh right in his face. “You’re fucking joking, right?”

Something that can’t possibly be hurt flashes in his eyes. “No?”

“Why would I embarrass myself like that again?”

Jean blinks, tilting his head sideways in confusion. And the gesture would almost be cute—

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Exhaling in annoyance, you cross your arms. “You’ve already shot me down once, Kirstein.”

He straightens. “Are you…what? Seriously? You were drunk.”

A fresh wave of embarrassment prickles over you. “You shot me down and told me to go home like some child.”

“Because I didn’t want any of the shithead shifters that were lurking around that night to take advantage of you.”

Now that you’ve broken the dam, the words just keep on spilling out. “And you take advantage of every opportunity to make me feel stupid for coming on to you in the first place, even now years later.”

Jean looks taken aback. “Is that what you think I’ve been doing this whole time?”

You frown. “...yes?”

He pushes his hair back, and the way the brown strands relent and fall against his brows when his fingers move away has no right to look as attractive as it does. And yet—

Jean takes your wrist in his own and tugs you forward, until your positions are reversed, and he’s the one backed against the opposite wall of the alleyway while you stand before him. He doesn’t let go of your hand, and you find your fingers pressed to the soft fabric of his shirt. 

The soft fabric and the feeling of his hot skin beneath—

“I turned you down because I don’t entertain drunk witches who think a night with a shifter is a novelty,” he says slowly, eyes never leaving yours. “And I flirt with you now because I like you. Even if you’re hellbent on hating me.”

You can feel his steady heartbeat beneath your palm. 

“I don’t hate you,” you whisper, not quite certain if you’re more shocked that you said the words, or that you actually meant them.  

You’re not sure what compels you to do it, to reach up and brush back a rogue strand of Jean’s hair. But it’s worth it for the way his eyes momentarily fall shut, his throat bobbing as he swallows. 

“No?” he breathes out, voice a little rough. 

You’ll marvel at the memory of this later, this sight of Jean Kirstein bathed in moonlight and bending to your touch. 

“No,” you tell him. 

Jean laughs quietly. “Then finish your spell already, little witch.”

There’s an odd sensation that ripples over you, a tug. Like the fire and brimstone of your magic feels the wind and earth in Jean’s, like it’s begging to touch—

Jean meets you halfway when you cup his face and begin to lean in. 

And when his lips find yours, your magic sings. 

It’s instant—the way you can feel the spell’s completion ripple through you as Jean’s mouth slots against your own, a sunny sensation fizzing in your veins. 

It’s instant—and it’s how you know everything that follows has nothing to do with the elixir and everything to do with Jean. 

Jean, Jean, Jean. 

Your blood pulses everywhere Jean’s touching you—one hand cupping the back of your head, the other curled at your waist. 

Your magic surges and shivers, cresting higher as he parts the seam of your lips with his tongue, deepening the kiss. A moan slips out of you of its own accord, and Jean growls softly. 

As a shifter, Jean can’t wield the power that lives inside of him with his bare hands, not like you can. But you can feel every tendril of it as it curls around your own, as your magic grasps for his almost desperately. 

Jean flips your positions, pressing your back to the wall once more, and his fingers press into the small of your back. 

And his magic is hot and wild as it seeps into you, as he drags hot, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, as he groans rough and deep at the little keening sounds that tips out past your lips when his hips press into yours. 

“Jean,” you whimper. 

A plea. 

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, mouth hovering near the damp patch of skin he was just sucking at below your earlobe. 

He’s so hard against you, his erection straining against the front of his pants. 

You shake your head, pressing forward into him, and he groans, cupping your chin. His eyes bore into yours as he drags his thumb along your lower lip. 

And then he’s dropping to his knees right there in the alley, thumb pressed to the swollen bud of your clit through your stockings as he pushes your skirt up out of the way. 

“Were these expensive?” he asks casually. 

You blink down at him in confusion. “No? They were like—“

Jean doesn’t wait for you to finish your answer before he nudges your thighs slightly further apart at the ankle and tears a hole in the stretchy black material right between your legs. 

“It’s too cold for you to take them off,” he murmurs by way of explanation, as if your brain is capable of focusing on anything other than the feeling of him tugging aside your panties and dragging two fingers through your slick folds. 

“Oh,” you gasp, knees already threatening to buckle. 

Jean grasps your hip to steady you, eyes glinting in amusement as he stares up at you while he slides one thick finger into your tight channel. 

“What kind of spell was that?” he teases, as if you’re not dripping fucking wet from him and him alone. 

“N-not that kind,” you gasp as he sinks in knuckle-deep. 

Jean seems pleased with this answer, slowly pumping the digit in and out of your aching cunt. You bury your face in his jacket to stifle your moans as you tremble in pleasure. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” he rasps, the lewd squelching sounds only intensifying when he stretches you even further on a second finger. 

Part of you wishes you were somewhere soft and horizontal, so you could feel the slide of his tongue on yours in a messy, spit-soaked kiss while he fingers you deep and slow until you’re a whimpering, sobbing mess. 

You wish you were naked and pliant beneath him, feeling the touch of his burning hot skin against your own from head to toe. 

But the fantasy is short-lived, tucked away for another time when Jean brings his mouth between your legs and laps a firm, broad stroke through your slit. When he groans at the taste of you, large hands tugging your legs even further apart as he buries his tongue in your cunt and begins to devour you whole. 

Because when he pauses to look up at you, to marvel the way you can hardly hold back your keening sounds as he fucks you with his tongue—he looks just as wrecked as you. Just as desperate and unwound with his mussed hair and golden eyes and your slick, sticky arousal painted all over his face. 

It’s what has your hands winding in his hair before you can even reach your impending climax, dragging him upward for a filthy kiss as your fingers scramble for purchase against the button of his pants. 

Jean hisses when you get your hands on his cock, and your now-empty cunt spasms around nothing while you stroke his girth. 

“Jean, please,” you pant against his lips. 

You can feel your stockings rip even further when Jean hoists you up, the bricks pressing into your back as you wrap your legs around him. The material is soaked with spit and arousal as he pushes your panties aside once more and lines his cock up with your dripping entrance. 

And it’s all encompassing—the way your magic explodes in a burst of heat and energy as his cock plunges into you, every cell in your body vibrating with searing hot pleasure like nothing you’ve ever felt before. 

“What the fuck—“ Jean chokes out, groaning as he kisses you hard, his grip on your hips tightening beyond measure. 

You know he feels it, too. 

“I know,” you gasp, and he takes your lower lip between his teeth. 

The pleasure surging inside of you begs for release, your muscles tensing harder with each deep, thick stroke of his cock against your slick walls. 

He’s all you can see. All you can smell and feel and taste. You want to feel him everywhere, want to let his magic sink so deeply into yours that you lose where you end and he begins. 

You’re so fucking drunk on Jean Kirstein, you might laugh—if you could do anything but moan and whimper and sob his name right now, that is. 

“Jean I’m close—“ you whisper, voice breaking. 

“Then come on my cock,” he murmurs. “Let me feel you come all over my cock, pretty witch.”

Your pleasure erupts in a gushing flood of euphoria, and your walls expanding and contracting rapidly on the stretch of Jean’s length as he fucks you through your orgasm until his own thrusts grow sloppy, too. 

“Come inside of me,” you breathe out, feeling the way Jean tenses and growls at your plea. 

“Fuck,” he groans, cock still pumping into your fucked out hole in deep, rough strokes. “You feel so good, fuckfuck—“

Jean comes hard, burying himself to the hilt when his cock begins to pulse inside of you, filling your cunt with rope after rope of sticky, hot cum until it begins to leak out and drip down your thighs. 

—and without warning, your pussy spasms as you climax once more in an unexpected surge of pleasure that has you whimpering and shaking in its wake. 

There’s a exhilarating, magical edge to it. 

Jean stares at you, lips slightly parted as he marvels at the sight. 

“Was that—“

“Well the spell called for spit, not cum,” you exhale shakily, cunt fluttering as he pulls out, and you whine. 

He watches you closely as he brings a hand between your legs, slowly rubbing your swollen, over-sensitive clit. 

”Oh,” you breathe out, fingers digging into the front of his shirt. 

You rock your rips into his touch, and all it takes is the tease of the pad of his fingers circling around your tight hole to have you coming again on his fingers. 

“Wow,” he murmurs against your lips, lazily slipping a digit back inside of you to feel the sloppy mess of cum that’s dripping out of you. 

And it still feels so good. 

“I think I fucked up the spell,” you gasp, already on the edge of another orgasm. 

“I think I can help you take care of that,” Jean rasps, kissing his way down your jaw to sink his teeth into the soft, plush curve between your shoulder and neck.

[absolutebl]

Hi ABL! I was wondering if you have recs for bl couples where a younger seme/top aggressively pursues an older, initially-unwilling uke/bottom?

I realized this trope was my absolute JAM when I fell hard and fast for Wei Zhiyuan x Wei Qian, Sun Boxiang x Lu Zhigang, and Yongjie x Xingsi. Bonus points for age gap, stepbrothers trope or the older uke being endlessly indulgent?

I mainly watch China and Taiwan bls, so I’ll love anything from there. I’ll take recs from other countries too, they might become my first foray into non-mandarin bls

I know this is a somewhat specific request so thank you sm if you manage to come up with anything! I really appreciate all the work you put into this blog ☺️💜

Oooo MY FAVORITE!!!

Hyung Romances! (wrap-up post)

I call these hyung romances because that's like noona romances but gay.

Specifically you said:

younger seme aggressively pursues an older initially-unwilling uke

I am utter TRASH for this! YES PLEASE!

Minato’s Laundromat

Japan 2022 GaGa 

AKA Minato Coin Laundry AKA Wash My Heart! AKA Minato Shouji Koin Randorii AKA Minato Shouji Coin Laundry

Younger seme older uke, very clearly yaoi derived dynamic, 10 year age gap. I love this show so much. This is by far the best long running example that really dwells on this trope, Shin is very much the aggressor also very much still a high school kid. Minato is very much NOT. 

Old Fashion Cupcake 

Japan 2022 Viki & GaGa 

Also from Japan, another 10 year gap, and a flipping genius version. This time both parties are older, so there’s less of a stigma around the age gap, but there is stigma about the one being the other’s boss. 

This show had me from the moment they broke the egg yolk with the chopsticks in the opening credits for episode one. It’s about a younger man with a long cherished crush on his boss (ten years older and going through a mid life crisis) who decides to save and seduce said man with pancakes. It’s wholesome, comforting, sexy, and a very necessary narrative about still having hope, interests, and openness to affection at any age. It’s coming of age/queerness packaged in a subtle critique of expectations around masculinity and love and loneliness... and it’s beautiful. Full review. 

Lovely Writer

Thailand 2021 YouTube 

Sib is quite a bit younger than Gene and defines aggressive pursuer. Gene is out of university and established in his career, Sib is still in college.

Thailand criticizes itself and the BL industry while simultaneously giving us classic seme/uke with great chemistry in a one-two punch of “we love it, but are we supposed to? and must we think this hard, yet enjoy it SO MUCH?” This show won’t appeal or make sense to those who don’t already have at least some Thai BL watching experience. What Lovely Writer does, at heart, is reexamine Thai BL has done to queerness, but in a very gentle way that has more to do with Thai BL growing up than any actual queer authenticity. It’s not parody or pastiche, but it is self reflective and trying to correct for some chronic mistakes. Whether it is ultimately successful in this matter is going to depend on the watcher’s relationship to BL and queer identity. But that’s what makes this show beautiful, interesting, and thought provoking. And I, for one, applaud the effort even if I didn’t personally connect to the characters.

Oxygen

Thailand 2020 YouTube 

Thailand’s first real stab at this dynamic as a main couple and it so worked for me. There are many who find this BL too slow and wooden, but I loved it. 

I think of this as a paragon of Thailand’s softer BL style, since Oxygen uses every BL trope in the playbook for one of the gentlest lowest angst BLs ever made. This one showcases how far Thailand is moving BL from its yaoi roots, and is a prime example of the sweet “new BL” model for which Thailand is the main advocate (Korea is liking it a lot these days too, tho). My first watch along. 

SOTUS

Thailand 2016 YouTube 

Guess who started this trope in Thailand? Yeah, sometimes I forget too. But they are not just classic sunshine/tsunder but classic younger/older. Just not by much.

This is the BL that launched a hundred BLs. No literally, it was SOTUS’s international success that pretty much built the Thai BL industry into the juggernaut it is today. People have baggage around SOTUS, I have nostalgia. Trigger warning on bully hazing. Review here. 

En of Love: Tossera 

Thailand 2020 YouTube 

Younger boy wants to court older boy and does and… that’s it. No really that’s the WHOLE STORY. There is actually no angst, drama, or, indeed plot. But are they the softest bois ever to BL as a main couple? Yes they are.

*pulp warning*

Private Lessons

Korea 2020 GaGa 

A BL short from Strongberry that I love, it's age gap and teacher/student (catnip por moi). The chemistry is slightly off though, but stil I do love this one for the dynamic. Certainly worth watching especially if this is your trope since it's like 8 minutes long and very stylish.

MingKit MarkKit

2 Moons (VERY side dish) YouTube 2 Moons 2 YouTube (major side dish) Gen Y (leads) Gen Y 2 (sides again in LTR) 

Thailand’s premier version of this dynamic I just lumped them all into one category. Only in 2 Moons 2 are they played by different actors, otherwise it is all KimCop, and who can complain about that? If you want to watch specifically for this dynamic than go for Gen Y. Trash watch here. 

SIDE DISH CORNER

Not Me (DanYok)

DanYok is an age gap, but it isn’t really the point or the plot of their romantic arc

Don’t Say No (LeonPob) 

Leon and Pob qualify. That’s all I have to say about that. 

HIStory 3: the BL that shall not be named (BoXiang & ZhiGang)

Also appear in HIStory 4: Close to You

The side characters in H3:MODC (and cameos in H4) BoXiang & ZhiGang have a huge age gap, 12 years, and it is a big deal for their relationship. When they start out BoXiang is a desperate himbo high school kid and ZhiGang is a small business owner. BoXiang’s friends tease him more for his lust over such a much older man than for being gay. 

Bonus on this one, there is some very high (and it's Taiwan so) very well done heat. That said, the main couple will, in fact, wreck your psyche for life. Proceed with caution.

THE THAI PULPS

You’re My Sky (SanAei)

Side could (and only good part of this show) SanAei are a classic uni age gap pairing. San is a bit of a spoiled rich kid jock who identifies the older nerd character as HIS and is just like, MINE. That’s MY elder gay. 

Brothers (KhunKaow) 

This is not a good show, but side couple Khun & Kaow are great in it. Khun is in university and Kaow has a small baking business.

Top Secret Together and Love By Chance both have sub plots of high school boys pursuing college ones, but the one didn’t go anywhere and the other went very very bad, so yeah… no. Although I would personally LOVE to see this done well. 

BONUS POINTS ROUND

Stepbrothers trope

HIStory 4: Close to You (sides)

YongJie is quite a bit younger than XingSi, not sure on the specifics but he’s in middle school when XingSi is in high school and still in college when XingSi has his own business.

Addicted has the stepbrothers trope but not the age gap.

Older uke being endlessly indulgent

Future

Thailand 2023 YouTube 

Based on a y-novel by Faddest (En of Love) about an engineering student and a dentist (shocker). This is just a soft sweet cotton candy fluff piece about a younger boy who pursues an older boy and then manufactures silly gay drama. Nothing wrong with that. But I don’t think this style of BL really appeals to a very large market share. Will I rewatch it? Sure. Will anyone else? Nope.

If you want your endlessly indulgent older gay, this is the you crack, they made if for you.

*pulp warning*

Manner of Death

Thailand 2021 WeTV

It’s not really relevant to the story, but Tan is younger. Not only that, he’s Bun’s friends younger brother. Bun is very indulgent, but in a grown up way.

I like MoD a lot but I’m conflicted over it being actual BL. It’s a great gay romantic suspense, although the mystery element is its weakness. MaxTul, the Kings of chemistry, are, of course, perfect and perfectly cast, but their romance thread is more a distraction than an addition. Still, I could watch them make-out the phonebook. Watch along here. 

Seven Days

Japan 2015 grey 

AKA Seven Days: Monday-Thursday AND Seven Days: Friday-Sunday Japan

Seryou kinda counts as the pursuer, but the dynamic is very very weak in this one. Still the way he asks to use Yuzuru’s first name (so CHEEKY) and the way he says “senpai” in SUCH a cute way makes me so happy. And Yuzuru is NOTHING is not indulgent, it kinda defines his character. I mean he just LETS him call him by his FIRST name... right away.

Never doubt my ability to recommend this show. One of the best live action yaois ever made, with perfectly structured angst, fantastic characters and acting, and no problematic tropes (rare in Japanese BL). The leads have excellent chemistry although it’s low heat there’s still some really cute mutual kisses. 

Just Taiwan

HIStory 2: Crossing the Line

2018 Viki 

Seme uke is VERY weak with this one but the younger character is certainly the pursuer. It’s SO GOOD. 

Lin Pei Yu directs this is a sports romance (volleyball) with a good boy/bad boy pairing, and mu favorite of the HIStory franchise. There is no clear seme/uke. Ostensibly it's high school set but Taiwan doesn't care about age appropriate actors. It's a very soft sweet romance with some ridiculously easily overcome conflict. There's great kisses but it's medium heat. The side dishes are the stepbrother trope but they’re very tame, and there’s no other triggers. It's not just my favorite of the franchise, it’s one of my favorite BLs with a perfect happy ending.

Kiseki: Dear to Me

2023 Gaga

The mains are a major age gap, but I always forget because they def don't look it. Also, Taiwan, so very weak seme/uke. Still there is age gap, he's in high school and our gangster is out of college and in the workplace.

The plot is totally ridiculous and slightly unhinged, but that’s normal for Taiwan. It involves all the tropes under a very casual framework of gay mafia gangs + food = love. Absolutely every character is queer. There’s a gum-ball machine of cameos, elder gay rep, great chemistry from all pairs, and a KILLER side couple. As a result Kiseki is a poster child for Taiwanese BL, and I happen to love Taiwanese BL. Bonus? They also managed to END IT WELL, which we cannot expect from Taiwan.

(Triggers for knife play, child abuse, lingering trauma.)

Unknown

2024 YouTube

Unknown is a wonderful BL with a pitch perfect portrayal of long term pining, age gap, and the stepbrothers trope. The acting and chemistry are ON POINT (especially from the leads) which made the resulting characters very believable. When it dwells in intimate family drama, it's stunning. It's slightly less successful when it leaves the home and goes gritty. Still, those are mere quibbles. This is an excellent show, one of Taiwan' s best.

As you see above I mostly had to take you to Japan and Thailand for this one. Considering your preferences try Japan first, it's closer in DNA to Taiwanese stuff, but it won't go as high heat. If you want the heat, you'll need to try the Thai stuff (or the ones from Taiwan you haven't seen). I would start with Lovely Writer.

Okay I think I have given you enough and, unless I miss my guess, I may have tempted you to try some Japanese BL.

Comes to the weirder (and weird hair) side. We have pancakes.

Yeah I think you should watch Old Fashion Cupcake.

EVERYONE SHOULD WATCH OLD FASHION CUPCAKE!!!

(source)

This post dated May 2024, not responsible for hyungs that sling after that date.

[lou-struck]

Just Take One

Mammon x reader

Flufftober Day 1- Candy Bowl

WC: 1.6k

~ You take Mammon out Trick or Treating for the first time and his Greed catches up with him in the sweetest way possible.

Your time as an exchange student in the Devildom has made the unusual, a usual occurrence in your life. You have grown accustomed to Witches, Wizards, Vampires, Angels, Demons, and other creatures passing you in the streets of the Devildom.

But now, you are back in the human world on Hallows Eve. 

The Devildom celebrates Halloween, of course, but Trick or Treating isn’t really a thing; instead of going door to door accepting treats from Demons and Incubi, everyone dons their favorite costumes and parties till dawn.

But when Mammon heard that in the human world, you go door to door getting free candy from Humans, The Avatar of Greed got a special kind of glint in his sapphire eyes, the kind that he gets when he comes up with a Get rich quick scheme. and begged you to take him out Trick Or Treating. 

Although his intentions were not exactly noble, you found yourself unable to say no to the Great Mammon’s pleading gaze.

So now you find yourself wearing a witch costume belonging to one of Asmodeus’s past lovers as Mammon shifts into his Demon form. The green light from the portal shines on both your faces, glowing brighter and brighter as it swallows the two of you whole.

~

The portal pops the two of you to a human world suburb. Each and every house on the street is covered in decorative cobwebs, lights, and ghoulish decorations. 

The air is crisp and smells like apples and cinnamon as you walk down the street. “Are ya sure it’s alright for me to be out like this?” Mammon asks, catching a look at his horned reflection staring back at him. 

“Don’t worry, Mammon, Halloween is the night of the year that demons can blend in with the rest of the Human world. People will just think that you are wearing a really good costume.” You explain passing a group of teenage girls who cannot keep their eyes off of the handsome Demon. 

The sun has hardly set, but trick-or-treaters are out and about too focused on the prospect of free candy to notice the subtle magic happening right in front of them.

A little group of superheroes passes the two of you with their pumpkin buckets half full of candy.

“Do we need those to get our candy?” Mammon asks, his little wings twitching in anticipation; maybe it’s not just the grimm he’s excited for.

 “We will need something, but those buckets don’t hold a lot of candy.” you say, “and I hope you’ll give some to Beel when you get back; he’d be heartbroken if you didn’t.”

“Yeah, yeah, but then I’ll really need something bigger,” he says dejectedly, furrowing his brows in thought. 

“No worries, I got us covered,” you say happily, reaching out into your bag and pulling out two large pillowcases.

“That’s smart,” the Demon says. Most likely imagining how much candy he could fit inside the sheet. “I’ll make a killing on these human world treats when we get back to the Devildom, just like that Kitkat you had in your…” Mammon tries to cut himself off, but the damage has been done.”

“My Kitkat?” you say sharply, knowing the king-sized bar you thought you brought back from the Human world the last time you visited. But when the time came to unpack, it wasn’t in your bag.” You sold my KitKat?”

His eyes go wide as he frantically tries to come up with an excuse. But he can’t. Not when it’s you.” S-sorry Mc. I meant to tell ya, but I forgot.”

You roll your eyes and give him a hard yet playful flick to the forehead. “It’s fine, but you owe me,” 

I’ll give ya all the KitKats in my bag.” He offers as if he hasn’t just confessed to stealing your treat moments before. 

“That, and I get to pick from whatever king-size bars you get tonight.” you counter; he opens his mouth to counter but can’t seem to disagree with you.

“Fine, ya win. But don’t tell anyone the Great Mammon has gone soft.” he huffs, twisting the empty off-white pillowcase in his tanned hands. 

We’ll come on then; we have a lot of houses to hit if we want to fill our bags. You grin, reaching your free hand over to grab his other hand that is not holding a pillowcase, and drag the now-blushing Demon towards the first of many houses.

~

The two of you have been at it for an hour now and, despite your age, have amassed quite a large amount of candy. A few homes actually gave the two of you bigger handfuls since your costumes were so ‘authentic.’ Elderly ladies, especially, thought Mammon was the sweetest young man they had ever seen and poured a big portion of their bowl into his pillowcase with a giggle and a wink.

In the back of your mind, you wonder how quickly those little smiles would disappear if they were to discover it was a real demon on their doorsteps, not a costumed one.

He hasn’t noticed it yet, but the pillowcase you gave him was enchanted by Solomon to never fill completely. As you watch a teenager boredly dump some candy into the pillowcase, you bite the inside of your cheek. The pillowcase would’ve been great to have when you were younger, for sure.

Forty or so houses down the line, the two of you come across a sparsely decorated porch with a large bowl of candy left out on the welcome mat. 

Two things capture your attention. The first being a simply penned sign taped to the front of the dark plastic. 

‘Please Take One

The second is the mechanical candy arm that looms ominous over the bowl of sweets, threatening to clamp down on whatever crosses its path. You remember these from Halloween���s past; they are motion-activated and grab hands that move past them as a harmless little Halloween trick.

It’s obviously there to protect the bowl. But Mammon’s greed has him incapable of focusing on anything but the bowl of candy in front of him.

“Mc, we can empty this whole thing, and no one would know.” He grins, taking a step on the wooden porch. The boards creak slightly under his boots as he strides over to the bowl.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Mammon,” you warn, reaching into the back pocket of your costume to take out your DDD. If this thing is going to go down the way you think it will, you are sure Lucifer and the others would love to see it caught on video.

He turns and looks back at you confidently, “Ya worry too much, Mc.” he beams, puffing out his chest. “Silly Humans knew what was we’re gonna do the minute they chose to leave the candy out here.”

“Alright, Mammon, if that’s really what you wanna do, then I won’t stop you.” you sigh, shrugging your shoulders in mock surrender, making sure to hide the camera lens sneakily behind the pillowcase to capture all the action. 

Mammon reaches for the edge of the candy bowl, his fingers carelessly knocking over the little sign. 

All of a sudden, a ghoulish, shrinking sound erupts from the bowl, and the mechanical arm swats down into the bowl. Mammon yelps in fright, dropping the bowl and his pillowcase of candy onto the porch. Candy goes flying everywhere, landing on the wood with a thud. A look of fear in his eyes as he turns tail and runs toward you, his wings flapping frantically as he reaches for you. “Mc, we gotta go; that thing is possessed or somethin.”

He grabs you firmly by the arm and tries to pull you to safety, but your feet stay firmly planted on the ground. You end the recording and laugh, “Mammon, look, it’s okay; it was only a prank.” you say, pointing back at the bowl that continues its mechanical movements. The little hand flailing around robotically. 

“What kind of prank was that?” he breathes out exasperatedly as you guide him back to the front porch. “The thing almost killed me.”

“Nope, you’re fine,” you respond, grinning at his over-the-top exaggeration. Knowing he has been subjected to harsher punishments back in the Devildom than just a mechanical slap on the wrist. 

Mammon’s cheeks are pink as he sheepishly walks back up to the porch to get his pillowcase, picking up the fallen candy bars from the bowl along the way. “Ya could’ve warned me.” He huffs, setting the candy bowl upright and replacing the collected candy inside it. The mechanical hand goes off again, causing Mammon to flinch slightly. But when the little hand barely taps him, he lets out a laugh. 

“See, that wasn’t terrible now, was it?” you tease, ruffling the snow-white hair between his curly horns. “Should we get going to the next house, or are you too scared?”

“That was nothin,” he laughs, taking two pieces of candy from the bowl and tossing one over to you. “The Chiuauuah hits harder than that thing. Let’s go, Mc. We got a big night ahead of us.” He steps off the porch and looks eagerly at the rows and rows of houses beyond. Each one promises candy and future riches for the both of you.

“Sounds good to me,” you say, taking his hand and letting him lead you towards the next house. In the back of your mind, you wonder what other funny little videos you can take of Mammon to show everyone once you get back. 

Tagging: @eussstasss @enchantedforest-network

[pursuitseternal]

“Something:” an update to “Our Blood is Thicker,” 🐦‍⬛💞🦇a little something for the Anniversary of BG3

Ascended Astarion x Cordehlia (Tav) | T | 1.6K

Summary: One year since she found her betrothed in her path, Cordehlia reminisces with heartache and happiness in equal measure.

CW: mentions of their past griefs and traumas, nostalgia

Previous Ch | Ao3 link | Masterlist

One year… a full year since that nautilus crashed, a year since she found her once betrothed elven lordling in her path. Had it been only a year since her heart rent itself apart at finding him again and let their love stitch it back together?

It had also been a year, then, since her life hung precariously in the balance, a life and a love deemed worthy of seven-thousand and seven souls to be his eternal bride. The passage of time had taken their hopeful, youthful Star Elf selves and broken them, refined them, and made them into the adamantine weapons of power they now were—The Ascendant and his Consort. It was days like this, when the summer heat was unbearable along the Sword Coast that she longed most for the emerald foliage and canopies of the Yuirwood.

She longed for the carefree playing in streams and knolls, in mud and sunshine. She missed his violet eyes and her star-kissed silver ones, those long nights of pleasure on the mossy banks of the forest, the feeling of their warm bodies moving more fluidly than the streams just beside them.

She missed their parents, the wizened, knowing smiles her father would give, even the subtle looks of approval his mother, the High Lady, would sneak her way when they were alone.

In all her decades of darkness, pursuing countless foes and splashing herself in their blood, she never once felt homesick. Love sick, yes. Grief stricken, yes. But it wasn’t until his love for her thawed the chill of her hatred and pain that she remembered home.

And now, she lived in a luxury not of her own heritage. Her skin was cold and her teeth were sharp. Her heart no longer raced with the pleasure he coaxed from her still, and it didn’t rap against her ribs in battle or flutter nervously when Astarion smirked at her. It was probably for the best that their past was nearly as eradicated as their own hopes for a life among their people.

She knew their village had left, that everyone journeyed to other reaches of Faerûn or other realms after the death of their High Lord and Lady… their murder in the City and the ultimate decimation of their line had been exacted.

They had been robbed of their rulers, their line… and their prince. Astarion.

It was all pain that should have been so easy to forget in their palace gardens. Leaning against the great oak tree at its heart, she sat with her skirts fanned, a book on her lap. This late summer sun warmed her too much; even back home, she preferred the cool caress of shade.

Not like him, her love, her lord. He stood near her, gazing down into the pond that collected the bubbling streams of water from the fountain of pure gold. Opulently, impeccably dressed, his silk jacket and pants caught the breeze making that cream, pearlescent material shimmer in the sun. But the gold and silk, the water or the sun itself, none of it was as radiant as him. His fearsome, handsome reflection no doubt shined up at him at his feet, that rakish tilt of his brows, those full, smirking lips rippling and paling in comparison to their original.

He was magnificent, glorious…. Ruthless to his enemies and adoring to his Bride.

The Vampire Ascendant.

It was a far more intimidating title than a mere elven High Lord. Astarion traded in being a prince for the mantle of a Vampire Lord, his ancestral manor now overshadowed by the walls of the Crimson Palace. His wealth was uncountable and ever-growing, untold powers at his command, gifts from the hells and magic beyond what any of the undead should wield.

It was what he deserved after centuries of suffering. But…

What she wouldn’t give for a blanket spread on their mossy bank in the forest, a single bottle of Ithbank to pass between them, the filtered sun above the foliage kissing their naked skin. She closed her eyes, letting the bark of the oak score into her skin through her waif-like dress. The scents of the forest, of nature, came back with instant recall, that soft gurgle of the fountain barely different in pitch from the stream in the glade where Astarion had taken her—

“Cordehlia,” he breathed her name, lips brushing her right ear. A warm hand on her cheek turned her face into his as her crimson eyes fluttered open once more. “My love,” he purred so tenderly, the warm pad of his thumb caressing the gentle arch of her cheek.”Tell me, what do you desire?” his voice was low, a gentle rumble in his chest as he poured all his love down their bond. “What can I do for my dearest?”

“It is nothing,” Cordehlia smiled softly; pulling him to sit beside her, so close their bodies flowed nearly seamlessly from one to the other. “Just thoughts of…”

“Home,” he interrupted. A subtle smirk tweaked his mouth just enough to show a fang. “It’s been a year, you know, since we defeated the Brain…”

His lips whispered against hers. And she whispered back. “A year since I found you on the beach and nearly trussed you up to gut you, you mean…”

“Oh,” he laughed with a husky giggle, “feel free to truss me up any time just to relive it, my love.”

Cordehlia sank her fangs in his bottom lip, making him laugh properly. “Be thankful I let you live long enough to fall back in love with me.”

Astarion broke from their kiss. Where she expected to see that impish glint, that rakish smirk, Cordehlia only saw purity, sincerity. Love. “I am thankful. Everyday,” his words so quiet, even her keen hearing struggled. “Come,” he stood swiftly, pulling her gracefully to her feet. “There’s… something I’d like to show you…”

Making their way inside, they hurried down corridor after cooridor. That nostalgia only deepened. Memories flashed of how these halls festered in darkness and rotted with wickedness under Cazador. She could still smell the dank of the dungeon, still recall the pain of that bastard’s bite as he tried to kill her…

A year ago. A year that passed faster than a blink of an eye. If time was nothing to her existence as an elf, it was less than nothing now that she was undead.

Now that she wandered the bright scarlet and golden halls of their palace. Now that she held the hand of her Sire, their hearts beating as one as his Bride.

She smiled at the word. Bride.

Feeling her thoughts, Astarion paused at the threshold to their rooms. “Oh yes, my Bride, don’t think I didn’t get you a little something to commemorate our union.”

“Always one to spoil me,” she shook her head, leaning in to taste his kiss once more. A sly smile twisted his lips as they pressed together.

The door creaked on its hinges, opening to reveal their bedroom, bathed in blue green light from their windows. Their sanctuary.

Her gaze instantly settled on the box on their bed, a small wooden chest. A nod of his head, a sparkle of childish delight in his crimson eyes, Astarion pulled her closer to it.

Eager fingers lifted the lid, and Cordehlia’s undead heart burst as if it had stopped beating altogether.

A shining silver war helmet, plates once cracked were soldered back together. Intricate designs of feathers spanned the sides, and a great eagle’s head rested on the crown of the helm. She would recognize it anywhere. She had polished it countless times as an elfling, wearing it in their home to pretend to play soldiers and war… a merry laugh coming from the chair by the fire as he watched on…

“Father,” she choked, her musical voice cracking with grief. “Oh, Father,” she breathed again, reverently stroking the eagle feathers and face that was their namesake, Aquillae. Eagle. That same name shined, etched into the back of the armor: Cassius Aquillae, The Great Eagle. Her eyes leaked the tears she could no longer keep at bay, and two warm arms embraced her from behind.

“Halsin found it,” he explained. “With the Shadowcurse lifted, all manner of relics were found. But he searched with great care for anything of your father’s.” A small laugh sounded in her ear. “My idea, of course. Don’t give the Druid any more affection or credit than he deserves, my love.”

A wet laugh was his reward for his possessive, bratty humor. As always. Astarion reached for the helmet, lifting it out to reveal two more pieces that instantly struck her in the gut.

Sharp pains of grief again. A bright silver locket, inlaid with golden leaves, and a small teal ring, that crest of its signet shining brighter than the gold it was made of. She didn’t need to look closer to know it was a heart and two daggers slicing cross-crossed through it, a pattern of little stars speckling its background.

The Ancunín crest.

His voice was heavy, his own throat bobbing against the back of her head as he reached around to caress the pieces. “Mother’s locket and Father’s ring… I found these in one of… his… vaults in the Counting House. The trophies claimed from Mother and Father’s murder.” Tenderly, he set the helmet back in the box, closing the lid silently. Then, he pulled her stiff, suffering body into his warm embrace. “Those aren’t my gift, don’t you fret.”

“I should hope not,” she forced a aggrieved laugh. “Still it is… good to have pieces of them, their bodies never put to rest,” she whispered into the cream silk of his jacket.

“We are about to correct that,” he smiled into the top of her head, breathing in her scent, wildflowers and moss. “We are going home.”

[mrsdesade]

golden frames and watercolor (headcanons of a museum date with Loki)

Timeline: after Thor Ragnarok

TW: no one

Pairing: Loki x female!y/n

Note: I always thought about Loki being fascinated by human art and poetry, so what is going to happen If you decide to bring him to a museum date? Let's see 🎨

he's so curious when you tell him that you've organised something special just for the two of us for the day

but he was offended when you revealed him that you paid for his ticket, he still has difficult to accept gifts event from you (but inside he's melting and he's so grateful)

when Loki leads you through the museum, his hidden malice is evident in the way he points out subtle details in the artworks

when you both pause in front of a surrealist painting, he offers an unconventional interpretation that leaves you both laughing

"My dear, look, the art of deception. These paintings tell stories, just like you and I."

"Hopefully, our story has a happier ending than some of these artworks."

always hold your hand as you navigate through the art-filled halls

when you find a hidden corner in the museum, Loki conjures a small illusion, and make the painting looks animated just for seeing your eyes shining in admiration

with his enchantments he deactivated the alarm and let you touch the canvas so you can feel the ancient texture

you can catch him looking silently at some little painting, realizing that even the God of Mischief can be captivated by simple beauty

"Loki, I never thought I'd see you admire a watercolor."

"Watercolor has a delicate beauty, much like... vulnerability. Don't tell anyone I said that."

he's mesmerized by all the golden frames full of baroques details, at the point he wants to buy some for himself

"Would you like me to buy one of these my dear?"

"LOKI THIS IS AN ORIGINAL FRAGONARD."

he might challenges you to a friendly competition of finding the most beautiful canvas (of course he's going to support only his opinion)

he definitely wraps his long coat around your shoulders as you both explore a section of the museum with a chill in the air

sometimes he whispering you how beautiful you are, just to making you smile and adding a bit of sweetness

"These paintings capture the essence of mortals and their fleeting emotions."

"Is that a hint of sentiment I detect, Loki?"

"Sentiment? No, just an observation. Though, I must admit, the company does add a certain warmth to the experience."

as you explore a contemporary art exhibit, Loki playfully mimics some of the avant-garde poses of the sculptures, making you laugh

spotting an interactive exhibit, Loki challenges you to a friendly game of art-related trivia, showcasing his extensive knowledge with a mischievous grin

when you both stumble upon a live art performance, Loki, appreciating the theatrics, subtly incorporates some magical effects to enhance the experience

If the museum has a VR art installation, and you insist on trying it together he's going to make fun of you because he thought it's something just for children, but then he's going to try it just for you

"I can do thousands times better with my magic, how could you enjoy such a simple thing? It's like a little TV too close to your eyes."

in a quiet moment he create with magic two sketchbooks and pencils, inviting you to sketching together, each capturing your unique perspectives on the exhibits

you come across a mirror exhibit, and Loki can't resist making a few illusions within the mirrors, creating a mesmerizing dance of reflections

"Loki, do you have a favorite piece so far?"

"Much like love, art is a complex emotion. But that landscape over there has a certain charm."

as the day comes to a close, Loki surprises you with a classic red rose and something bought at the art shop just for you, it's his way to thank you for the date together

the funny thing is that you bought something for him as well (probably a book of poetry) so it's a funny moment of you two exchanging gifts outside the museum

"But...you know dear, mixed with silence, there was a certain chaos inside this building."

"Are you referring to the art exhibition or our relationship?

"Perhaps both. Chaos keeps things interesting."

the results is that from that day, he started to bringing you to all most famous museums on Earth

That's it! 💚 As an artist this post came out straight from my heart, hope you enjoyed as much I did while I was writing it~

[thefinalwitness]

it hit me this morning why i like the uniformity of the ancients so much and why i generally disagree with the idea they should be more visually weird. not that i think anyone is BAD for thinking this, i totally get it, especially in the context of azem and wanting to make yours FEEL like your own. (tangentially, i also think azem is one of the best ancient characters TO deviate from the uniformity, given what we know about them and the people born of their soul.)

but what i find so compelling about a society of people whose Whole Thing is creation magic, the ability to Make Anything, having a lot of stigma against deviation in the form of self expression with one's own body is how SAD it is. how DYSTOPIAN it is. you can invent the most creative, stunning objects and creatures known to man, but you can't even show your face.

i think it's a really powerful, subtle piece of the puzzle that ties the whole concept of the world unsundered together—in particular, how miserable it really was, how unsustainable their society really was, how prone to characters like hermes and venat it really was. it reminds me of some of the worst elements of real life; how creators and inventors are lost and forgotten behind their works (instead accredited to companies, or a single person), how artistic and creative careers are typically treated as unsustainable and simultaneously exploited, how unyielding and suffocating the concept of "normal people" is (to the detriment of anyone who deviates, be it by gender, sexuality, race, abledness, religion...). i think it's genuinely meant to be a commentary on things like that, or at least i think regardless of intention it IS an incredible commentary on that.

i think the ancients are SUPPOSED to be boring and uninspired—wearing the same clothes, concealing their faces, never using their transformations—and i think it reflects such an important element of why the world unsundered was awful: ancients were amounted to their creations and duties, not their own selves. you can even see this in the convocation seats, how you're given a new name that EVERYONE, even your closest friends, almost exclusively refers to you by; the implication that you must not only uphold your duties, but blend in seamlessly with your predecessors and successors, that you must be indistinguishable.

this is HOW characters like hermes and venat developed their respective discontentments with their lives; you were not your own person, but a cog in the star. you did not get to have your own passions, styles, ideas—and even when your role was complete, you couldn't be yourself. you were expected to remove yourself from society. you were expected to cease to exist beyond your function. even despite the fact that the ancients WERE individuals with personalities and dreams. their actual bodies vary widely, their eyes glow vibrantly; almost as if they're MEANT to burst with uniqueness. and it's all buried in black robes and masks.

and i think all this is why i LIKE the uniformity so much, because narratively speaking, it's such a fascinating concept. there's a lot of room to explore how it works, why the people of the unsundered world got to that point, how it might disproportionately benefit some people and hinder others. emet-selch calls it perfect and a paradise, but i always got the impression he was meant to be an INCREDIBLY unreliable narrator; i think he was among the people that benefitted from the uniformity and the "this is just how life is, don't resist it" of it all, and i think you can see him recreating it even worse in allag and garlemald. i think it explains the DEPTHS of his hatred for the sundered too, beyond obvious things like "they're not the people he lost".

because the sundered world, conversely, is FULL of individuality. people look, act, talk and live countless different ways; every city and region has a completely different way of life, so much so that you can tell where someone's from just by how they talk or dress. i think venat understood, especially after meeting the wol, that people needed to be free; that a world like hydaelyn would be someplace people like hermes could thrive. and that this plethora of individuality would be the world's salvation—in all things, not just the song of oblivion. i think this is what "hear, feel, think" MEANS.

and so, to me, so much of the picture is lost if the ancients had utilized their creativity inwardly. that's not to say i'm telling anyone NOT to do it—again, i think azem is a great character TO push against this ideology, and i even have an ancient oc (non-azem) who does the same! i think these people absolutely existed, and were simply drowned out and ostracized by the rest of society. mostly i'm just excited to finally be able to articulate this, and i've seen people also question why the ancients are so boring, and wanted to share my thoughts in case it helps! i really like the ancients because i think they're startlingly human (to say nothing of their actual human resemblance), and i think that's so much more interesting than if they'd been super diverse and alien BECAUSE of how much it harms them as a society. super flawed characters fascinate me and make me reflect on my own choices and ideologies, and i think that's both a lot of fun and super useful just in general!

edited to add: i think there's also the mechanical element of game design, and signaling things to players. while a fictional world can be endlessly different from our own, as creators, we still need to communicate the ideas in a way people who live in our world understand. this is, for example, why i think the ancients appear human; being FROM a world where everybody's human, we immediately associate their resemblance to us as benign and unremarkable. and that's what the ancients, i think, are SUPPOSED to be, or rather, what their society has imposed as "correct". the developers using appearances that we'd see in everyday life makes us think, "oh, that's not very fantastical," which is exactly what the ancients' society wanted people TO think of each other. obviously this is a much more technical reason than the rest of this post, but i think it helps explain why they specifically are uniformly human, and not, like, uniformly purple mantis people (which would be cool and different and fantastical, hence muddying the message!).

[your-divine-ribs]

Forbidden Part 33

Words: 2.2k

Forbidden Masterlist Main Masterlist

Your mind is teaming with questions but you know you won't get any answers from Van. It's looking quite likely that his and Kathleen's outwardly idyllic relationship might be deeply flawed but you can't just come out and bluntly ask what you really want to know. You'll need to tread carefully, pick up on any cues, conduct a little more of your own sneaky brand of investigation... maybe you could even probe Johnny a little? He must have valuable inside knowledge locked away inside that head of his. Even though he's obviously very protective of his long-time friend and colleague you're sure you can work your magic on him... you can be very persuasive after all. Now that the Italy trip's in sight you've been dreaming about spending more time alone with him, exploring the city together and stealing away for secretive meetings in secluded little bijou cafes and steamy hook-ups in the privacy of your hotel room. There's nothing like warm Mediterranean sunshine and fancy wines to loosen lips and slacken inhibitions.

Despite your aroused curiosity and your uncertainty about where your relationship with Van is heading you still can't help but smile as you make your way down the stairs, catching sight of yourself in yet another antique mirror that hangs on the wall in the entryway. It's going to be quite some time before you can gaze upon your full-length reflection again without invoking thrilling memories of last night. The rosy hue it paints on your cheeks looks good on you.

Never in a million years would you have dreamed that you'd have ended up here in your Professor's house. If you weren't so preoccupied with mulling over your discovery and what it might mean you'd probably be letting your mind race wildly with a different kind of fantasy. One where you weren't a needy, broke student but a successful, competent career woman. Not just an accessory to Van but an equal partner, strolling down your grand staircase of a morning to greet him in the kitchen, discussing your plans for the day over breakfast before you'd slip off to further your already high-flying career.

Maybe you'd better graduate first though before you get too caught up in pipe dreams...

Van's leaning back against the pristine white cabinets in the expansive kitchen when you enter, a steaming mug of tea in one hand and a sheaf of paperwork in the other that he's poring over. He's wearing his glasses and he peers over the top of the frames at you when he hears the sound of your bare feet padding across the tiled flooring.

You hover uncertainly on the threshold for a moment until you note the way his face lights up as he allows his gaze to wander down to take in your bare legs. It gives you a welcome surge of confidence that's been lacking since you first awakened. After all it wasn't the shy, timid, reserved girl who'd caught Van's attention on his first day on campus, it was the cheeky, bold, mischievous girl who wasn't afraid to go after what she wanted. The one who liked to live dangerously and break all the rules.

You add a not-so-subtle sway to your hips as you make your way over to take up your place opposite him, leaning on the spotlessly clean breakfast bar. You briefly wonder how it would feel to get fucked bent over it... sully the gleaming surface where him and Kathleen eat breakfast together each morning. The wicked thought paints a smile on your lips.

"I see you've not changed yet," he observes, nodding towards your attire, the over-sized tee of his that just skims the tops of your thighs.

You shrug casually. "I'm actually pretty comfy in this. I thought maybe you'd let me hold on to it?"

He looks mildly surprised as you plant your hands on the tabletop behind you and boost yourself up so you're perching on the edge, bare legs on display for him as you stretch them out.

"Oh... I guess so... I suppose it does look better on you than it ever did on me..."

You have his full attention now, the paperwork discarded behind him on the countertop, his glasses removed whilst he sips at his tea, watching you with a quietly simmering hunger.

"I'll let you in on a little secret Sir," you smile coquettishly, pausing for effect as you raise your hand up to your lips in a secretive gesture. "I look a whole lot better out of it."

"I don't doubt that for a second," he chuckles quietly under his breath as he turns to reach for some crockery on the counter top.

You curl your fingers around the hem. You're tempted to whip the t-shirt up and over your head so when he turns back he'll be met with an offer he can't refuse, but before you can put your plan into action he's crossing over to you with a mug of tea and a slice of buttered toast on a plate which he sets down next to you.

"I thought you said you were getting breakfast on the go," you wonder out loud.

"I am," he nods. "That's for you. I'm sorry it's not much but it's all I've got in right now... and we're quite pressed for time anyway."

"But I don't usually eat..." you start but he cuts you off firmly.

"You do now. C'mon, eat up before it gets cold. You've got a busy few days of revision coming up before the exams and you've got to look after yourself. No skipping breakfast, it's the most important meal of the day."

"God you sound just like my dad now!" You groan as you glance down at the plate and the four little triangles cut up neatly lying there. You should be dismayed that he seems more concerned about your well-being rather than wanting to ravish you on the work surface but you can't quite bring yourself to truly feel that disappointment. There's something about the fact that he cares enough to make sure you're starting off the day healthily that pleases you unexpectedly. You dutifully pick up a piece of toast, taking a small bite as he watches on.

"Exams... revision... coursework... studies... ughhh!" You grumble even though you're smiling, rolling your eyes dramatically. "Do you ever think about anything else?"

"As a matter of fact I do," he smirks, stepping closer and placing a hand on either of your knees, easing them gently apart so he can occupy the space in between your spread thighs. "You happen to be very distracting Miss Y/L/N. If you must know I'm having a really hard time not cancelling everything I have on this morning to stay home and fuck your brains out right here and now on this kitchen counter."

"Then maybe you shouldn't try so hard," you smirk back at him, wrapping your legs around his hips in an effort to tempt him.

His fingers tighten their grip on your thighs, a pressure that forces a little gasp from you as you automatically tip your pelvis towards him. Lust licks across your skin like fire on a touch paper. How is it possible to be constantly filled with this much desire? It's unnatural what he does to you, the way he makes you feel, his blissful attention as vital to you as the oxygen that you breathe.

"I know we agreed that this was going to be a..." he pauses as if he's searching for the right words, the intensity of his gaze making your heart swell in your chest, "... a mutually beneficial relationship..."

You interrupt him with a snigger. "Isn't that just posh terminology for fuck buddies?"

He laughs but you detect a hint of distaste at your comment. "Not quite. I know what we agreed but I really don't want this to be just a series of fast and meaningless fucks Y/N. I wanna take my time with you, explore every part of you..." A finger travels lightly up the expanse of your bare thigh, a feather-light trail that makes you shiver. "I wanna do all that shit to you that you've only dreamed about but you've never been brave enough to admit to anyone. I wanna discover it all with you and I don't wanna rush. The best things in life are meant to be savoured after all don't you think?"

Christ... if he carries on talking like this you'll be leaving a puddle on the countertop. You squirm where you sit, wishing you'd taken the time to put your underwear back on.

"Uh-huh," you mumble, but that's all you manage to get out. His lips are on yours in a second and he kisses you deeply, tongue sliding against yours and exploring your mouth like he's claiming you. Yours hands automatically fly up to tangle in his hair, holding him close, a shameless moan slipping from your lips. You realise that before last night, kissing hadn't really been a prominent feature of your encounters, but my god, you're so glad that seems to have changed. You can feel yourself melting under his touch, your whole body vibrating with excitement and arousal. You could go on kissing him all day until your lips go numb, not even coming up for a breath, but unfortunately Van has other ideas.

"Mmm... you taste so fucking sweet," he murmurs, finally pulling away but staying close, hovering just inches away. His full kiss-swollen lips look even more delectable than usual and you watch longingly as they curve into a smile. "Much as I'd love to write off the day and spend it in your... delightful presence, I have a very important meeting to get to and you have a revision session with Professor Stevens at 9 o' clock if I'm not mistaken?"

The groan erupts before you can stop yourself. "Ughhh really? I wasn't actually planning on going to that. He's so boring... that bloody monotonous voice of his droning on..."

"It's less than a week before exams," he says curtly as he steps back, his touch falling away as he reaches for his mug to drain the dregs of his tea. "It's not the time to be complacent. Just because we're seeing each other now it doesn't mean I'm going to grade you more generously."

"I know that," you reply, trying not to show your excitement at the fact that he's casually dropped into conversation another acknowledgement that what you're doing together amounts to more than just fucking, despite what you told him upstairs. "I'm going to work hard this week, I swear I will. I just thought that maybe we could arrange some revision sessions together... you know... some private ones. You explain things so well, so much better than the other Professors. I think it would really help me to get the best grades."

You look at him hopefully but to your dismay his brow pulls into a small frown and you already know what the answer's going to be before he speaks.

"On the contrary I don't think we should meet up again until after the exams now. You're perfectly capable and definitely bright enough to ace these exams if you apply yourself. I don't want to distract you, I want you to be fully focused. Your studies are far more important than anything else right now and it's only a few weeks until we’re in Italy. You can contact me by email any time you like if you have any questions about your revision or you need any support. You have my personal number now as well..." He looks at you pointedly "... of course it goes without saying that I do need you to be discreet with that. That's really important."

It wasn't a question but it's quite obvious he's expecting a response. "Yeah, yeah, of course, I can do that. I can be discreet. Aren't I always?"

You have the sudden urge to follow it up with a giggle but you know this is no time for jokes. Discretion has never been your strong point but then you've never been in this situation before, you've never been the 'other woman', a secret lover tucked away... a mistress. It's wicked and exciting and it's just far too damn good to risk fucking it all up by playing your silly, impulsive games. You need to rein in your reckless side and keep her in check. Be obedient for once so you can reap the rewards. The thought of breaking things off with Van cuts you more deeply than you'd care to admit.

"I do mean it," you add, hoping you sound as earnest as you feel. "You can trust me you know. And I'm going to try really hard with my exams. I won't let you down."

He looks at you for a moment, considering your words, reaching out with both hands to delicately push your hair back from your face, lingering there as he curls them gently around the back of your head. Then he's leaning down to press a sweet kiss to the parting of your hair, murmuring faintly as he holds you close.

"My good girl... my sweet, good girl..."

[notsp1derman]

a review full of childlike wonder of the wizard of earthsea, by ursula k leguin

[may contain spoilers]

“A rock is a good thing, too, you know. If the Isles of Earthsea were all made of diamond, we'd lead a hard life here. Enjoy the illusions, lad, and let the rocks be rocks.”

Ever since I've started reading A Wizard of Earthsea, two thoughts have been circling my mind:

How the fuck is Harry Potter more acclaimed than this?

Wow, the Ghibli movie really doesn't do it much justice.

Earthsea is a simple story in its core, yet so groundbreaking in so many details (and in such a subtle way too) that I just understood how special it is after I finished reading. Within a third of the size of staples in the genre like The Name of the Wind (which has a similar plot and worldbuilding as well), it manages to tell an adventure that would captivate any child and entertain any adult, even those very serious about realism in fiction like me. Although we fly by many important events in this 180 page book, each one of them feels carefully thought out, a perfect balance between the sentiments of our protagonist and the hard laws of the world.

The archipelago of Earthsea feels alive and solid under the words of this book, and there wasn't a single moment where I was fished out of the immersion because of a poorly explained piece of lore or a boring infodump about the details of commerce that I don't really care about. LeGuin weaves together hard worldbuilding and the childlike wonder of unexplained mysteries in a beautiful way, encapsulating a joy in discovering a new world that I haven't felt in years.

Of course, nothing is perfect, and sometimes I wish there was a bit more of detail about landmarks, people and even Sparrowhawk. Still, it somehow works because it brings out the imagination I had as a child to fill all of the blanks myself. In this process I the archipelago of Earthsea became mine too. I love descriptive books that paint a vivid picture of a place that exists only in the dreams of the author, but a change of pace sometimes can feel like a breath of fresh air, and this is how Earthsea felt for me.

But the most special feature of this book is the way the author uses narrative. Her way of telling the story of Sparrowhawk as an omniscient narrator, giving away teasers of later events but keeping the thrill of the journey in its twists and turns almost feels like a legend told by fireside, of a hero long gone. We know of Sparrowhawk's potential as a hero and we know he will be a great wizard, but he still feels human even with this semi-detached style of narrative so common in legends. Because although his power is vast, his hubris is entirely human.

And between dragons and magic and islands, Earthsea discreetly brings a message of balance and self-discovery, that is intrinsically connected to Sparrowhawk's development as both wizard and person. The wisdom passed through the pages doesn't feel like the author giving some unwanted lecture, but more like a sage advice that I truly am compelled to take seriously.

I can't help but love books like this, able to charm me with a wonderful world and fantastical characters, but also able to bring me reflection about human nature. By naming the shadow with his own true name, a gesture so significant in Earthsea, Sparrowhawk made peace with the dark parts of himself, that his own arrogance brought to life. And by understanding all parts of himself, he became a better wizard and finally found a bit of peace. It is a journey we all must take, albeit a less fun and more plain one.

★★★★★

[sorcerous-caress]

Reflection | Minthara - Gale

[Smut, angst, drama, fluff, cheating, nb!reader]

[Reader cheats on Gale with Minthara, both know.]

It should bother you, shouldn't it?

Unfaithfulness wasn't something to pride yourself on. But you've never tasted anything sweeter before. It was so inviting to indulge in. How could you ever resist your wandering eyes.

The subtle curl of her lips when she sees you, the lingering scent of her body soap whenever the two of you happen to bathe at the same time after a day full of ruthless battles.

The longing look she gives you when you offer to help wash her hair, those sighs of pleasure escaping her lips as she leans into your skilful fingers, messaging at her scalp.

How soft her hair is, white strands with grey undertones smoothly gliding through your fingers.

Her offer to help you with your back afterwards, the way you hide your lower body inside the river of water from her wandering gaze. Thighs rubbing together underneath the stream as you feel her hands on your bare skin.

But it doesn't bother you, not in the slightest. 

Maybe that's what's eating you up at night, how bothered you are by your lack of care towards it.

You like Gale, you really do, he is a very sweet and nice guy. You were the one who convinced him to stay after all, at that same camp celebration long ago.

You could come up with excuses, an endless list of justifications for your sudden change of heart.

He is too power-hungry, or he talks about Mystra too much. Maybe it's the fact he still wore her matching earring or the fact he still spoke of her with great reverence and admiration despite her heartless demand for his life in exchange for her forgiveness.

Or maybe the fact that despite his words, you can see how rushed he is to commit to this relationship.

As if you can even call it a relationship, a courtship might be the best term to describe it. Even with Gale's added requirement of complete monogamy during your said courtship.

Your companions respected that, some begrudgingly with snide comments about what's the point of a courtship if you're going to be exclusive from the start, others with more heartfelt comments that wished you the best on your road onward.

It reminded you too much of the comments strangers would tell a newly wed couple.

To say it was suffocating would be an understatement. You didn't realise just how much Gale expected of you when you agreed to this.

Whenever you'd tell him that, sugarcoating your worries the best you could at how fast he was rushing the both of you into a fully committed relationship, he'd simply brush your concerns off.

You barely knew the guy, and he was acting as if the two of you were to be wed the second you stepped foot into Baldur's Gate.

Well, at least someone in camp did share your thoughts. Completely understanding your point of view.

"The wizard's ego blinds him to reality, very typical of his kind." Minthara would tell you as you seeked comfort in her company, too fed up with Gale after another attempt at getting him to lay off a bit.

"He says he loves me, but I'm not sure what is there for him to love when he barely knows me." It tasted sour in your mouth to admit out loud, as if you should be grateful for getting love in the first place.

"What I want to know is why are you so keen on entertaining his delusions?" Her raspy voice resonated with you, for such a voice with a dangerous edge, it never failed to put you in a trance of peace.

You looked up at the night sky, the real night sky with all of its flaws and endless darkness. Very unlike the beautiful magical stars filled skies Gale could make appear with a snap of his fingers, the illusions he so effortlessly covered every blemish of nature with.

"What else do you suggest?" When you lowered your gaze, you were met with her eyes. She was admiring you as you admired the moon.

"If the wizard is inadequate at satisfying you, then you should seek your own fulfilment with another." Minthara's fingers gripped your chin, turning your face fully towards her.

"As if Gale would allow such-"

"He's a male. You do not ask for an allowance from such creatures." She interrupted you with a firm tone, frowning with disapproval "If anything he should be grovelling at your feet for failing at his only purpose, I've seen mistresses behead their husbands for much less offences."

You sigh, "this isn't the underdark, Minthara."

"Yes." There's clear disappointment in her tone, a hint of longing. "Things would have been very different if it was." Her fingers slowly move from your face, lower and lower as they graze your neck. Fingertips pressing at the left side, right where her own tattoo is.

-

Those words echoed through your brain for the next few days, the promise of how different things would be, still could be.

On the surface, Gale and you grew more and more closer to each other. Dinner dates with home cooked meals, stargazing and his seemingly endless source of love poems. 

But on the inside, your hearts couldn't have been further apart. You felt unheard, your needs and preference ignored for the sake of living the true classical romantic dream he so longed for.

The mortal exclusive romantic things you couldn't do with a goddess.

Sometimes you even felt like this was a downgrade from your previous friendship before, at least then he saw you as a whole capable person and shared his own magic theories to you, seeking your wisdom or knowledge. Even if you weren't versed in magic, he'd still appreciate the perspective from an outsider.

Yet these days, you're only his partner. Not the person he confides and jokes with, not the person he has light-hearted conversations with. But just a romantic partner that he gets to live a romantic fantasy with. 

Who is he trying to impress? It certainly wasn't you. Was he just trying to prove something to himself? To prove that he is still capable of something long gone? To prove to the universe that he still knows how to love. 

That his decision to stay after sneering at you about how much of a bad influence you are to him at that celebration was a good choice because he ended up with true love. Love justifies all reasons.

And just like he used you as a shield to take the blame from his own conscience that celebration night, telling you it was your fault for the actions that he himself did on his own will, he is using your love as an excuse to justify the horrors he might commit later on.

He's been talking about the crown of karsus a lot. Not to you of course, not anymore. But to Wyll, Shadowheart, even Astarion. 

When his newfound habits started to bleed outside of the camp and into your battles, that's when you had enough.

"I told you not to attack them, Gale. What were you thinking?" Venom filled your voice, you had set a very clear plan for Astarion to always initiate the fights, that way you could take 2 or 3 of them down before they'd realise you were even there.

Too busy tending to their wounds, your other companions left you and Gale to bicker it out.

It was infuriating, he was infuriating. 

That day ended sourly, Shadowheart's healing could only stretch so far before everyone had to retreat to camp. 

"Just give me a moment." Gale interrupted you at camp that night, "I am fully aware of how reckless my earlier actions were."

You didn't want to look at his face. You couldn't stomach it. With a sigh, you crossed your arms as you finally faced him.

"You're usually smarter than that." He was one of the last people you'd ever expect this behaviour from. 

"I admit, and I'm willing to apologise for my mistake." Sitting down next to you near the campfire, with shame in his voice, he said, "...i was trying to prove myself...to you."

The campfire flame danced against the shadows, its inviting warmth like a blanket over the two of you. 

He continued, "I've wanted to show that I'm still a very capable wizard…but my magic failed and backfired on me when I needed it the most."

You didn't know what to say. Only staring into his deep brown eyes, attempting to peer into his soul through them, and read his intentions as if it was possible to do. 

Well, the parasite did make it more than possible to do. You felt it move in the back of your brain, pulsing and itching at the chance to connect to its sister.

A frown looked very unfamiliar on Gale's face, one you got so used to seeing brimming with happiness. The subtlest of blush that used to adorn it now lacking in colour, the purplish orb veins seemed even more prominent than before.

Rejecting the call of authority, you let Gale's lips speak their own truth instead.

"You should've still told me, at least." Anger faded from your voice, "we are a team. We are supposed to fight together."

"Within reason, yes that would've been the best solution." Gale smiled, a sour pained smile that didn't reach his eyes. "But that's not what you're attracted to, is it?"

For a second, you were frozen, unexpectedly put on the spot. You thought about denying it, his claims. But you knew it'd only be an insult to both your intelligence at this point.

"What makes you think that?" You played it safe, digging for more information before admitting to anything vindictive.

His hand caressed yours, slowly moving over to hold it.

"I know you." He spoke confidentially, "even better than you know yourself." 

Your mind raced. He couldn't possibly have known all along.

"I see how you look at her" his fingers intertwined with yours, your own hand sweaty and limp against his firm grasp. "It makes me green with envy how you openly lust after another while in my embrace."

As if you were suddenly pulled from the warmth of the campfire and drenched into freezing cold water. 

"I can be powerful too." Gale whispered against your ear with tenderness, "even if I'm not a knight in shining armour, say the world and I'll conjure a never ending storm of fire hurricanes for you."

He is choosing to stay despite knowing the truth. Each day, he woke up and chose you, to get stronger for you.

Guilt seeped through the cracked walls you've built around your heart.

"It's not your fault, I don't blame you one bit." His words just made the needles at your throat twist deeper, "These…sinister urges inside you are to blame, they attract you to her power like a moth to the flame."

He has the same look on his face, the same sneer he directed towards you that night at the celebration. The same burning hatred and disgust, except this time it's not at you directed at you, but an imaginary parasite controlling your brain.

You've been quiet for a while now, letting him speak. Feeling his touches getting bolder and bolder as he got even closer to you.

"I can show the correct path, the right way." His lips were so close to yours, yet you couldn't take your eyes off of his. The flames of fire reflect off of them and shadow the previous lovely brown. "I can make sure there never is a repeat of the horror that happened at the grove."

With his body so close to yours, you could feel the subtle gravitational pull of the orb in his chest. Checking you for any traces of magic that it could seep into its endless abyss, only to be silenced immediately but Gale's own weave.

Gale's eyes locked into your lips, he swallowed. "Don't you want to be fixed?"

You pulled back from the kiss before it could even happen. Forcing his attention back to you.

As he looked at you, it wasn't your own image that reflected on his deep brown eyes. It wasn't your own self that his soul was mirroring. As if the current you was a mere stepping stone between him and the perfectly sculpted version of you that awaited in the future.

Confusion was clear on his face, like a sad puppy not sure of what it had done wrong. You closed off yourself again and pulled away from his embrace.

You didn't look back at him. You walked away.

Reaching your own tent, you parted the curtains only to be greeted with a flowery scent. There laid on your bedroll a careful and delicate arrangement of various flowers in bloom, traces of enchantment sparkled against the soft petals.

Picking up the bouquet, a card fell from against your feet.

' Your beloved - G.D. '

They have been here for a long while, their smell overwhelmed everything else in your tent, and even your own bed wasn't spared from the all-consuming enchantment. Leaving the flowers outside did nothing to lessen the smell. If anything, it somehow made it spread even further.

Your stomach twisted. It's chokingly sweet.

With the bouquet in hand, you abandoned your own tent. You kept walking until you reached the edge of the camp. Far in a secluded corner where luminescent mushrooms and plants faded away the darkness.

A familiar earthly scent washed over you. 

Minthara looked pleased to see you, "you're here." She said as a matter of fact, as if she was expecting your arrival. "Good."

She didn't ask about the flowers, she barely acknowledged them as she took your hands into her own. 

She let you in her tent. You didn't even have to ask. The way she parted the curtains and waited for you to go inside, a silent order. Obey her.

And of course you did, ever since that time you tasted her, when she also tasted you, you couldn't even dream of disobeying her commands.

Sometimes you wonder how different things might have been if she had just stayed. How a lot of the current mess could've been avoided, if she had just joined you instead of marching onto moonrise towers alone.

Another part of you dreads what could've happened if you had arrived there far too late, her fate sealed before you could even step a foot inside the tower.

You feel her heat behind your back, her body pressing close into yours. She is warm and brimming with life, not the dead cold corpse laying on the cell's floor that you see in your nightmares.

Her arms wrap around your waist, her nose pressing against the pulse point on your neck. She is listening to your heartbeat.

Does she also think about the night you shared together? Does she remember your moans mixing with hers through the quiet silence of the night. The moonlight illuminating your naked figures above the broken stone altar. 

"Give yourself to me," She whispers, voice full of promises untold, "what we share is much more than anything that anyone else could offer you." 

Her hands grip your thighs, the same way she gripped them that night. A shiver runs up your spine at the memory of her hot mouth on you, heat pooling between your legs.

You make your decision as she lays you down on the bed. The sheer hunger in her eyes made you feel the more helpless in her web, each possessive touch and lasting bite made you melt more into her grasp.

She wanted you to depend on her for pleasure. On her touches and her mouth, on the way she lifts your thighs above her shoulders and places you in a very vulnerable position. 

She liked to feel in control, and you obediently gave up all of your control to her. 

Even as her own wetness dripped down her thighs, her sole focus remained on you and your pleasure. As if the view of you slowly losing yourself to lust was enough to get her off. 

It's not like you could reach over and give her release, not with your hands bound above your head. The small piece of fabric restricting your movement seemed to give Minthara a rush of power and pride, evident in various marks she adorned your neck and chest with.

Thighs and hips, too. She made her ownership known over your body. As if it didn't already belong to her from the way she managed to push you over the edge twice already, while she barely grinded herself against you.

It was almost as if she was worshipping you. Her admiration was clear behind the various veils of lust and power.

Admiration for you, the whole of you as you are. Your reflection in her eyes was purely your own.

You moaned her name like a prayer throughout the night, without shame or regard for who might hear. It drove her wild, her own release coursing through her wave after wave as sweat glistened against her skin. You couldn't look away, couldn't tear your eyes away from the glorious sight of Minthara at the peak of her orgasm. 

At that moment, you could only think about how you've  never seen anything more beautiful in your life.

In the aftermath, when the sun rays filtered through the outside of the tent, you held each other closely. 

Her head on your chest, rising and falling rhythmically with your breathing. Minthara's arms wrapping around your waist and anchoring herself to you.

Your fingers weaved through her hair, parting the silvery strands to place the flowers. The bouquet laid on the ground, half empty next to the bed.

Minthara didn't seem to mind. She indulged you as you crowned her hair with soft, colourful petals. Although the flowers kept slipping off and pooling around her pointy ears.

Maybe you should braid it into her hair instead, use the leftover flowers from the bouquet in the morning.

You don't remember when you fell asleep, only the comforting darkness that you invited when you closed your eyes for a second.

[cherry-valentine]

Winter 2024 Anime Season

I didn’t do write ups for the Fall 2023 season because I was only watching two shows and they were just new seasons of shows I’ve written about multiple times before (Dr. Stone and Spy x Family) so I didn’t feel the need. Both were great. I’ll just leave it at that.

Mr. Villain’s Day Off is one of my favorites this season. Following a stereotypical Tokusatsu villain on his not so typical days off from villain work, the show is a tender hearted comedy without a single mean bone in its body. The humor here is more subtle and situational than the usual fast paced slapstick we often see in anime. As a result, the story actually has a heart. The main character, usually just called Shogun (reflecting his status in the villainous organization), spends his days at “work” fighting a team of Power Ranger-like heroes (each of whom actually get some decent characterization and cute moments, especially the perpetually lost Red) and plotting the destruction of humanity so that his race of aliens can take over the planet. But he spends his days off visiting the zoo to see the animals he’s come to adore: pandas. The charm of this extremely charming show is primarily in the contrast between the violent villain who wants to wipe out humanity and the quiet, good natured man who loves pandas and is genuinely enjoying learning about earth and human customs. The art is very nice, nothing too fancy but it serves the story well. The music is soothing. Overall it’s a very sweet and comforting series that wisely avoids going over the top with the comedy and never really drains its primary joke (villain who loves pandas) too much. Recommended (though you’ll definitely get more enjoyment out of this show if you’re at least vaguely familiar with Tokusatsu tropes).

A Sign of Affection is an incredibly sweet and gentle shoujo romance about a young deaf woman named Yuki and the relationship she forms with Itsuomi, a handsome guy from her college who knows several languages and decides to learn sign language after meeting her. There’s been a bit of a trend lately that I’m totally here for: shoujo romances that are wholesome and healthy. Though I definitely enjoy the drama of more spicy shows, it’s also very nice to relax and watch something that’s not going to piss me off. A Sign of Affection is very careful with its romance. Characters behave in more natural, mature ways. There are fewer misunderstandings and the ones we get are completely understandable. It’s just nice to see healthy, equal, consensual relationships. Because those are the ones I want to root for. Yuki’s disability is handled with delicacy and tact. We see her limitations and struggles but we also see her living a full and happy life. The art style is very typical for high quality shoujo. Lots of pastels and gentle, natural designs. The animation is fluid enough for a show like this, and the music fits it well. Recommended if you like romance.

Cherry Magic is a BL (Boys Love) series that continues the fairly recent trend of non toxic BL anime (that started with shows like Given and Sasaki and Miyano). Cherry Magic centers on Adachi, a shy man who discovers he has magical powers after hitting age 30 while still being a virgin. The power? To read the mind of anyone he touches. Out of curiosity he touches his handsome, popular coworker Kurosawa and finds out Kurosawa is in love with him. Once upon a time, nearly every BL anime that came out was full of toxic relationships and, I’ll call it a “strained relationship with consent”. There’s been a lot of discussion over the years about why that was and how people felt about it, but I for one (a straight cis woman, so take my opinion with a grain of salt) always found those aspects to be uncomfortable. Thankfully, like with shoujo romance, modern series have been moving away from abusive relationships with (very) dubious consent. Cherry Magic is refreshing, mainly in that the two leads are 30 and they actually form a very sweet and equal relationship. It’s a very slow burn romance, but it works well here. The art isn’t anything amazing. The character designs are rather generic and the animation quality dips noticeably after the first episode. But the music is nice and the writing is strong enough to carry the show. Recommended.

High Card season two is, so far, a bit of a letdown. Following a group of people using magic playing cards to give them special powers as they try to gather all the cards, the first season was a blast. The characters were fun and the plot, while occasionally getting a little dark, was overall upbeat and energetic. Season two is fine. I’m enjoying it and it’s had a few great episodes, but the pacing just feels off. Some episodes feel disjointed, and just when it seems like the plot is getting tense and urgent, things come to a screeching halt to have backstory or even side story episodes. To be clear, it’s still a very good anime, but so far the second season is failing to live up to the first. The art and animation are still great and the music is too (though the opening and ending themes just don’t compare to the absolute bangers of season one). Definitely still worth watching for the colorful, lively characters alone.

The Demon Prince of Momochi House is a very pretty supernatural shoujo series about an orphaned girl named Himari inheriting a house from a family she never knew, only to find it already occupied by a trio of handsome young men, two of whom are not actually human. It turns out Himari’s new house sits on the border between worlds, and one of the young men, Aoi, is tasked with guarding that border. The plot is fairly episodic, and the show’s main weakness is that it feels very familiar and predictable. The basic setup of “bright cheerful girl with no family moves in with supernatural hot guys” is not new. But it’s a common setup for a reason: it’s charming and fun. The art and design are very pretty. The music is a high point, with my favorite opening theme of the season. It’s a cute show. It doesn’t reinvent the wheel, but it’s still a fun ride.

Sengoku Youko is a fantasy action series focusing a pair of traveling “siblings” (not related by blood) consisting of Tama (a fox spirit) and Jinka (a human who hates other humans and wants to become a spirit creature). Traveling with them is a young human man named Shinsuke who wants to be a swordsman. The plot is fairly episodic, with the siblings mostly wandering into dangerous situations involving spirit creatures. There’s an overarching plot about a human religious sect that’s been doing experiments to combine humans with spirit creatures, but that’s usually in the background of the other adventures and serves to provide villains. The characters are overall interesting and fun, and a few of them even avoid falling into the usual fantasy anime tropes, or flip those tropes around enough to be interesting. The fights are exciting, even if the powers and abilities aren’t always made clear. It’s nice that there are plenty of powerful lady characters as well. The art and animation are nice, and the music is great. The ending theme is hauntingly beautiful, and my favorite of the season by far.

[jkl-fff]

Rereading "Lord of the Rings".

And one thing that strikes me this time around is how vast and especially *full* Middle Earth is. Naturally, one does get a sense of its scale in the films through the sweeping panoramas and the traveling scenes.

But a subtle way the books establish how *full* it is that isn't really present in the films ... is by the plethora of random stuff the characters encounter en route. So much of which doesn't really have anything to do with Sauron's latest bid for power or the Ring at all, or only tangentially, if so; stuff just happens to be on the way or in the way.

Like a wandering company of Elves who just sorta squat in the Shire like a fabulous and snobbish homeless camp.

Or a sapient fox who notices Frodo's weirdness and goes "But that's none of my business."

Then there's the evil willow tree that tries to drown Frodo and eat Merry and Pippin just because.

To say nothing of Tom Bombadil and Goldberry, this basically Ned Flanders of an Earth God and his basically river nymph wife just chillin' in their house and what they've decided is their yard.

And the celtic burial ghosts that manifest as a disembodied hand like some sorta Legend of Zelda monster.

And that's just in and around the Shire!

After that, you get,

Lots of ruins all over the place. Seems like they can't go five minutes without tripping over some ruins.

A mountain that's an asshole and tries to kill the Fellowship simply for the sake of assholery.

Those things that are "older and fouler than Orcs in the deep places of the world", such as the Watcher in the Water. Or that Gandalf passes while busy fighting the Balrog (and who presumably pulles a sapient fox by going "But that's none of my business."). Or like Ungoliant the Giant Spider-Thing was, and her offspring like Shelob and the giant spiders in Mirkwood.

Seriously, Shelob's not there in Cirith Ungol later on because of Sauron; no, she just lives there. Like a feral cat, except a giant spider-thing.

AND THEN THERE'S THE BALROG! Who, yeah, probably knew Sauron back from when they were both coworkers in Morgoth Inc., but clearly wasn't working for him at the time of the Fellowship. Seems the dude just decided to chill under some mountains after the Feds got their old boss for violatong noise ordinances (meaning the Valar imprisoned him for sowing discord in the divine melody), but then the Dwarves woke him up from his nap *twice* before the Fellowship did it a *third time*.

A lake with weird reflections and a commemorative sign that says one of the Dwarf founding fathers once had lunch there, or whatever.

A river that echoes the voice of a famous Missing Persons case in Elf history.

Ancient Gondor's magic surveillance towers for watching and listening in on foreign nations (but probably their own citizens like the NSA, too), which are way out on the edge of their territory for no particular reason.

Several hundred miles of land that, according to tree-people gender binary, women liked to farm (before a battle happened, somehow turning it into a haunted swamp where good people became vengeful ghosts somehow).

There are more characters for the stories to gravitate around from then on (Rohan and Gondor, Ents and Gollum), and the action between books and movies more closely aligns. But still, it's kinda impressive how crazy Tolkein's world is.

[voidmarkd]

[ . . . ] continued from here with @erinnya

Atlas’ gaze remained locked on her, her defiance a flicker of light against the cold void that stirred within him. He watched the way her composure had steadied, how her chin lifted in subtle defiance, and it amused him. Her words, laced with challenge, piqued his curiosity even further. It wasn’t often that someone met his darkness with such boldness. He let the silence between them stretch, savoring the weight of her response like a hunter toying with prey, uncertain yet if he would strike or simply watch her squirm.

His lips parted, but no sound emerged at first. Instead, he stepped closer, the shadows seeming to cling to him like a second skin. The air around him chilled further, his presence oppressive, as though he brought with him the emptiness of the grave. His eyes roamed over her, searching for cracks in her armor, a sign of fear, but there was only that same defiant spark. It intrigued him, this game she seemed willing to play. Most would have wilted beneath the weight of his stare, beneath the echoes of death that clung to him like a lover’s whisper. She was different. Perhaps that made her dangerous. Or valuable.

Atlas leaned in slightly, just enough for his words to brush against her skin like a cold breeze. "You may find that the dead don’t speak in words, but in consequences, love." The smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth was far from kind, it was predatory, calculated. He could feel the pull of his magic, faint but ever present, reacting to the tension between them. There was something about her, something hidden beneath the surface. Secrets, he suspected. Secrets worth prying open.

His expression darkened, the faint smile twisting into something colder, more sinister. Her words echoed in his mind: if the dead were still worth listening to. He let the silence linger for a moment longer, as though weighing her statement against something far deeper than she could grasp. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before settling back into their icy detachment.

"The dead always have something to say" he replied, his voice quiet but sharp, like a blade wrapped in velvet. "But whether they're worth listening to?" His smile returned, a cruel curve at the corner of his lips. "That depends on how much you value lies. The dead are full of them — whispers of what was, of what could have been. But they're never what you expect." His gaze grew more intense, as if testing her resolve. "If you're seeking truth, you're looking in the wrong place. The dead only offer reflections of your own fears. Sometimes that's all they are... echoes."

She hadn’t told him her name, but Atlas didn’t need to know it, not yet. For now, this game was enough. He would watch her, learn more with each word she spoke. And when the time came, he’d decide if she was worth keeping in his orbit — or if she would be another unfortunate consequence of getting too close.

[neige-leblanche]

ok im gonna start w the Kalim cards i have because his dorm groovy is one of my faves and i wanna talk about why i love it

✨Art Critique Time✨

I'm actually gonna start off with this one!!! Even though it's not the glitziest, I still really love it!

(dog pic for spacing)

Whether or not the thumbnail accurately portrays the Vibe of the whole card is important to me, and he looks really cute here, so this is successful!! The composition of the whole card is also really nice; you can easily tell what position he's sitting in, and it's colorful but not overwhelming. Kalim's hand occupies the second vertical dividing line if you visualize it by the rule of thirds, drawing clear and simple attention, and just above it is a coconut water whose saturation and value blend really smoothly into the background— Jamil is framing Kalim; his person is almost an extension of the plates of food on the left, and even though Kalim is actively receiving the coconut water from him, he's looking straight at the camera, not at Jamil. It starts off a cute pic of Kalim eating, and the more you look at it, the more you realize just how much Kalim is being spoiled.

The dorm card!! Un-groovied is really solid in a similar way to the above: the expression on his face, the triangular composition, and upwards angling all suggest power. However, when you look closer at it, you can make out just how relaxed he looks: the scepter leaning against the chair, his foot propped up on the arm, and the looseness of his hold on the cup are not the main focus of the piece. This might have been the artists' attempt to retain Kalim's personality while still maintaining the grandiose vibe of all the dorm un-groovies, in which case, the execution was not great, but I like it for that exact reason— he looks powerful and majestic, but he's still Kalim :)

THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVE CARD ARTS!!!

Kalim fits into the sweeping circular frame of the fountain so nicely that the composition has a dynamic feel while still portraying the subjects as fairly static, and the contrast of Kalim with the water makes it very clear what's happening in the picture.

(dogy for spacing. this is from a time when i gave her a crumb of an oatmeal cream pie and her ass who never gets out of bed stood like this for an hour)

The thumbnail makes it really clear what kind of image this is too!! I love the gentle purple shadows, I think they make the whole picture pop while still being subtle and beautiful. You can also tell from Kalim's hair and accessories that he's wet, so it doesn't feel like the artist is forcing you to look for the water droplets. Looking closer at the picture, you can examine the petals, the Magical Pen, the water details, and the reflections in the jewelry, and they're all woven seamlessly into the composition. It's just so beautiful; I could look at it forever💜

This one next!! Mixed feelings on this one!! This is the type of composition I really like; the foreshortening is executed decently enough for how dramatic it is, and the cooking supplies swirling around him are fun. The thumbnail image is great; he looks cute and very clear:

I can't say I like the colors of the full piece, though—Kalim's saturation does not pop out from the background, and the sharpest value contrast is found in, like, the apple and the lettuce, which still look kind of dull. I literally just noticed there was a cutting board by his side while I was making this post. Um. Anyway, while Kalim's legs are darker than his torso, giving his figure some depth, they kinda blend right into the floor, leaving the viewer's eyes to pick out exactly how he's standing. IDK this card has wasted potential.

aaaaaand ya boy hit the image limit so i'm gonna reblog with more!

[turtleybeachin]

I posted 1,325 times in 2022

That's 1,109 more posts than 2021!

85 posts created (6%)

1,240 posts reblogged (94%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@property-of-diavolo

@kannra21

@eternallydaydreaming2015

@devildomditzy

@incendiak

I tagged 1,269 of my posts in 2022

Only 4% of my posts had no tags

#obey me - 885 posts

#obey me lucifer - 209 posts

#obey me mammon - 158 posts

#obey me diavolo - 88 posts

#obey me leviathan - 87 posts

#obey me simeon - 79 posts

#obey me barbatos - 77 posts

#obey me satan - 76 posts

#obey me solomon - 68 posts

#halloween - 53 posts

Longest Tag: 111 characters

#you know lucifer somewhere just violently sneezed and then glared suspiciously in whatever direction simeon was

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Somehow I’m losing my mind over Raphael’s bedroom. The partially eaten GIGANTIC apple just hanging out, the books and papers on the floor, the not-quite-made bed with the dangle blanket. I don’t know what I expected of him but this was not it and yet I’m loving it.

159 notes - Posted November 7, 2022

#4

so we all have a dark sense of humor in this fandom right? if that's not you, scroll past this, it's not going to hit your funny bone. (spoiler warning for lesson 16!)

okay so the way we have anniversaries in the devildom, what if MC has yearly anniversaries of the day they died?

like hear me out. i like belphie now, but i also feel like it's my diavolo-given right to remind him he's a little shit on a regular basis.

the boys wake up one morning to MC laying in the foyer with a banner hung over them "HAPPY ONE YEAR SINCE I DIED DAY!" we give belphie a sparkly birthday-style hat that says "I'M AN ASSHOLE" and pin a lil badge to his chest that says "MURDERER" and he has to wear it all day.

"it's been one year since belphie murdered me mid-hug and laughed about it!"

"it's been two years since the day belphie strangled me to death and then cackled maniacally in the foyer over my corpse!"

"happy three years since he brutally slaughtered me and then dragged my body through the house like a cat showing off its kill!"

but i feel like we would have to text mammon first to warn/remind him of the holiday i don't wanna traumatize my first man.

227 notes - Posted November 9, 2022

#3

Crying About Season 2 Episode 3

Putting everything under cuts because I don't want to spoil for people who haven't seen it yet.

I CONTINUE TO INSIST MC BE ALLOWED TO ABSOLUTELY ENCOURAGE LEVI'S NERDING OUT. As someone somewhere on the neurodivergent spectrum, I hyperfixate and obsess and nerd out hard on shows and games too. And I know how much it hurts when your friends and family mock you or tune you out or walk away from your excitement. And I know how much it means when they listen and get excited too and even if they don't care or understand they're happy just to see you happy.

And every time in the game when Levi starts getting excited and we're forced to like, not care or shut him down? NO. NO I REFUSE.

Anyway, specifically in this episode, I will admit Simeon's entirely un-subtle escape made me cackle

Followed by Luke's misery crawl after both his dads abandoned him like that

See the full post

260 notes - Posted August 12, 2022

#2

Cold Hands

Lucifer x MC (gender neutral)

Fluff, hand holding, fall vibes

-------------------

It's a chilly night in the Devildom, the breeze cutting straight through your clothes. Lucifer beside you doesn't even twitch, the breeze ruffling his hair so prettily you can't help but wonder if he's using magic for that effect. Maybe it's his sin reflecting onto you, but you tense your muscles stubbornly and refuse the shiver that arcs along your spine.

He glimpses you from the corner of his eye, watching you clench your jaw against the chattering. You don't seem to realize how you're squeezing his fingers, your bare skin prickling in his grasp, the leather gloves denying you any shared heat. He could tease you, comment on your fragile human flesh, your trademark stubbornness in refusing to ask for his jacket.

Or he could unfurl his wings, stretch them wide and then let them settle in a way that just so happens to curl loosely around you and block the worst of the wind. "Oh, you don't mind, do you?" he drawls, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "The breeze feels pleasant on them." He slips his hand from your grasp long enough to pluck off his gloves and tuck them gently into his pockets, then entwines your fingers with his.

The heat from his hand seeps to your bones and up your arm. "Not at all," you reply, biting back your smile. You know he's caught your chills, and more than that, your attempt to hide them from him. "And your hands? Do you like the feel of the breeze on those, too?"

He lifts your hand in his so he can press his lips to the back of it. His gaze remains locked with yours as he lingers, the warmth of his breath on your skin erasing any memory of cold. "I prefer the feel of you."

312 notes - Posted October 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Sometimes I think about how the other sorcerers must get BIG MAD at MC because they're the first and only human to have a pact with all seven sins, all seven lords of hell.

They should be wealthy beyond understanding, have limitless power, be everything good boys and girls fear about deals with the devil.

And instead they only call upon the pacts for like, stupid shit.

"I heard they summoned Lucifer yesterday???" "Yeah, don't get excited. They didn't want to have to call the cable company to cancel service so they asked him to do it for them."

"Yo, the new kid used their pact to call Satan here! Who died? I didn't see any wild death tolls on the news--" "I saw on Instagram they went to Barnes & Noble and then a shelter to pet cats."

"Did you see they had Beelzebub here last night? And he looked pissed." "I have a friend who works at Olive Garden. Apparently he found the limit to the unlimited salad and breadsticks."

"Was I seeing things or was Asmodeus in town? With Solomon, I assume?" "Nah, with his apprentice." "Oh, were they trying to seduce their way--" "They were trying out those new nail polish robots at Target."

"Ugh, did they summon Mammon? Why??" "Apparently they couldn't reach some of the spell components on a top shelf and didn't want to go get the step stool."

"The new kid is outside with Leviathan, and they're standing real close talking animatedly. You don't think he's scouting ahead for the Navy, do you?" "Nope, walked by them earlier. They're playing Pokemon Go."

"I'm pretty sure that's Belphegor in the lounge near the fireplace." "Yep. Apparently the new kid likes to shove their bare feet under him while he naps, says he's 'the perfect temperature'."

5,496 notes - Posted October 18, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[alexwreakinghavoc]

Misty-eyed Confessions:

A Reflective Paper on the Anthology, “Lockdown Litanies: Countless Untold Stories”

Lockdown Litanies: Countless Untold Stories is an anthology of poems full of woe and and loss. It is composed of 9 poems, each telling different stories and having their own style. The poems are written like it was in a dim room, underneath the covers, with only a flashlight as its source of illumination. It is greatly written as I think I can feel what the author is feeling as she was writing it, the emotions she would want us to experience as we were reading it.  These are poems of experience. The hurt, the loss, the pain one experiences in life as they stumble through it. Feelings realized and written in time of chaos.

As I was reading “Dear Diary”, I was under the impression that it was written for someone, despite it already having addressed the diary in the title. I was only half-right I think, as the poem really is written for someone, and that someone is the author herself. It talks about the problems she faced, the burden she carries, and the way she coped. I related a lot of what is said in the poem. My mother was also hospitalized during the lockdown, I lost a lot of people. “It felt different. I, too, became different—” was a line I related to the most. I feel differently to who I was then. I grew, but I also became lonelier? Sadder? Just somehow not who I’m supposed to be. The poem reminded me of Unwell by Matchbox Twenty. The line “My head created more voices to fill the void” from the poem was like “All day starin' at the ceilin' makin' friends with shadows on my wall”. Both lines are about loneliness, and how loneliness can turn into something bad. The end of the poem is giving out a hopeful feeling though, reminding us that we aren’t crazy, just a little bit unwell.

The second poem, “The Tale of a Modern Sisyphus” is very interesting. Just by the title, I was already intrigued. It was subtle but at the same time, obvious. It was about the presidential elections that happened just this May 2022. It was creatively written, relevant, and such a shame that it had to be written. Instead of celebrating a success, a loss was written. Instead of getting competence, we got ineptitude. Truly a waste, our country has. Now, we are left to wonder what could’ve been. The line “Holy! Haven’t seen a woman who’s clearly a ten— // Let alone the judges; they chose a far less seven.” from the poem reminded me of the line “The game was rigged, the ref got tricked // The wrong ones think they're right // You were outnumbered, this time” from Only The Young by Taylor Swift.

To continue, the third poem O’Yayi is written in prose structure. It made me feel emotional as I felt the unrequited love from the author. It told the story of a woman settling down with someone else as she lost her ‘true love’ from war. How the author is worried about who she will choose in the afterlife, if they ever meet again. It gave Lips of an Angel by Hinder vibes. As both song and poem uses voice/melody as a way to be reminded by past love. “With a soft, almost romantic lullaby playing and a small figure of a couple twirling, music and magic would soon fill up the entire space, and my ears would be welcomed by a familiar sound. Dante?” from the poem and “It's really good to hear your voice saying my name // It sounds so sweet // Coming from the lips of an angel // Hearing those words, it makes me weak”

Next, we have Two Red Laces on the Wonderwall. I felt that it was about loving someone who doesn’t feel the same way the author did. The author gave her all her affections, only for him to give only a fraction of his. I do relate to this as sometimes I feel that there are people who are only after some parts of me, like how the subject in the poem is after her body only. The “maybe you should get tested” made me think it is about an STD test, thus having the conclusion that they have a ‘friends-with-benefits’ relationship rather than being proper lovers. The whole poem reminded me of I Need to Know by Sleeping with Sirens. “You are my universe, I was your falling star” and “Two starlit lovers, we were destined to be torn apart” lines from the songs that I feel supported my statement.

Another poem in the anthology is Umbilical. It is a poem about loss. Losing a mother has got to be the hardest thing to get through. I had the same fear as my mother was diagnosed with COVID last year. I kept praying, begging to anyone who’s listening to save her. She wasn’t with us as the government took her to a facility. All four of my siblings and I were left at home, not knowing what was going on with her. I would probably never get over losing her and I thanked everyone who was there for her and ensured her safety. Fearing for her life is one thing but actually losing her? It would have been the end of me. “You have made your purpose, I guarantee. // Hush, sleep tight. Everything will be alright. // Lilom, Lilom, I beg. Spare her for me.” is a line from the poem that reminded me of “Tonight I've fallen and I can't get up //I need your loving hands to come and pick me up // And every night I miss you // I can just look up // And know the stars are // Holdin' you, tonight” from the song Tonight by FM Static.

The fifth poem in the anthology is RE: Paper (I’m Red, IMRaD)*. I would say that the poem is all about the social issues our country is currently facing amidst the new people on the seat of power. It is mostly about the educational issues that give troubles to both students and teachers alike. The song War by Sleeping with Sirens is most applicable with poems. It was opened with “this house of lies is stained with blood”. Another line from the song “when will we know our wrong from right? // to me it seemed that we have lost our sight //  we were blinded by our right”.

3 A.M Awakening is another poem in the anthology. From what I understand, it is about someone exhausted from life. Someone who thinks happiness will come in the form of rest, permanently. It would be a bit silly to hear especially if said to grown ups but the poem is very relatable. The first line, “Breathe gently ten times and let anger go” is something always said to me when someone wronged me. I am always supposed to take the high road and forgive someone, even if they aren’t even sorry. “Breathe as if it’s easy to do today” is also true. Some people wake up and thank God they’re still alive. But sometimes, living is exhausting. Bit ungrateful but it’s how I feel. “I've been up for days // I can't tell the difference from sleeping away // I'm losing my patience // I can't feel my faith” is a line from the song Sarcoma by Killstation.

Like the previous poem, My Frail Lady is a poem about hurt. It’s an idyllic poem with dark lines. The poem, I think, is about suicide. Falling to the ground at such a high place. The line “Soon she will be found— Dancing on her own” meant that she will be all alone but happy when she dies. The song Bullet by Hollywood Undead is a song most applicable here. “I've been trying too long with too dull of a knife // But tonight, I made sure that I sharpened it twice” is a line from the song that also implies suicide but presented with a fun upbeat tone.

To sum it all up, all the poems from this anthology showed the different sides of the author. All her pain, her opinions. So many of her lines I related to. These series of poems gave her a medium, an outlet to let out all her untold stories in this time of hardship. Braving the world of pain, not letting it get to her. These are the tears she refused to let fall. She wrote her confessions with misty eyes.

[missgenesis]

Haha oh ya I forgot

The reason nobody will stand behind me

I'm too controversial

Maybe that's because my positioning on topics is a perspective that integrates multiple points of view

In a healthy collective global discussion, I sure hope there's controversy

If everyone agreed on all the same ideas and nobody offered a differing perspective, well then its 1984

This is an excersize in quieting the ego to open up new ideas and ways of thinking

Often I see reflections out there in the wild suggesting that my work is notoriously misinturpreted

Don't throw the baby out with the bathwater

📸

Our interpretation of each peice of music and its message is strongly dependent on the context under which it is presented

Sometimes, very subtle changes to a playlist can completely shift the interpretation.

Sometimes I just play out a narrative for the sake of exploring a fantasy concept

I'm not a newspaper, I'm a library

If you walk into a library and see a book you don't like , you dont turn around and leave

You look around for a different book

What does this say to you?

You tell me.

What will? Neighbors think?

Last I checked, I didn't make these songs.

(Or movies, tv shows, video games, books, myths, bible verses, art pieces, or poems.)

"We agreed that the truth is the enemy of happiness".

For whom?

It doesn't botter you that you are all puppets on a string blissfully unaware that your life is a lie (thx mgmt), all you do is copy the identity, thoughts, beliefs, and original content of an indentured homeless street rat?

NOT ANYMORE.

Your very essence of life is fading away like an autoimmune disease.

What you are can't exist. It's a doomsday virus.

Luckily I have the antidote.

This ends now.

Juice cleanse for the soul. Go to rehab if you must.

Just make it stop.

You look like buffoons.

Lmao so this entire world is just designed around keeping people stupid like you so no one realizes you are dumb dumbs?

Dang.

Michael Grey. Lol what is reality.

Used to love his Nancy drew videos so funny. He's a priest interestingly.

Idk, don't you wanna be magical and evolve so you can be psychic and shit instead of being a coward and actively contributing to the world ending in a completely preventable but imminently looming manmade cataclysm?