#best tumblr thread in the whole world

[starsinthesky5]

dating joe burrow (headcannons) || joe burrow x reader

description: little things about you and joe’s relationship 💗💗

a/n: this was a request I got! (request can be found here) i haven’t tried this before so im feeling it out :) the fact that it took me the whole week to write this is wild 😭 let me know if you guys like this or have any thoughts, ideas, whatever 💗

side note- almost had a heart attack because i thought none of this saved. this is what i get for writing directly in my tumblr drafts and not google docs first like usual

word count: 4.1 k

warnings: allusions to smut

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he’s a total gentleman. he's always opening your doors for you, carrying your bags, and you never have to ask him to. he just does it on his own, it was a sweet unspoken rule. he says that he knows you’re incredibly capable of doing things on your own and he loves that about you, but he says you always deserve ‘the princess treatment’ and no princess should ever break a sweat or struggle with anything 

he’s always holding your hand when you two are walking together. he hated when you couldn't hold hands because it made him feel far away from you (even if you were right next to him). holding your soft hand, running his thumb along your soft skin, and having your fingers intertwined was the best feeling in the world for joe 

when you're out on the streets, he's always watching out for anything you might step on or walk into such as puddles, uneven surfaces, or grates where your heel may get caught in. you joked that he was like your personal bodyguard, and he took on that role and title proudly. he said that guarding you was a more important job than being a quarterback for a billion-dollar franchise--that's how much he cared for you 

he wasn’t a big touchy-feely guy, but with you? with you it was a completely different story. his hands were always on you, his lips were always pressing sweet kisses around some part of your body, and he was so addicted to you. when he was with you, touching you was all he could think about and when he wasn't with you, he was always fantasizing about the next time he was 

he loves kissing your neck. sometimes a little roughly to leave a few pretty marks so 'everyone knew who you belonged to' but sometimes very sweetly & gently. so many sweet kisses. his soft lips left no part of your body untouched. he was so soft around you compared to the way he was around friends, his teammates, and family. the second it was just the two of you, he became a little baby--your little baby--and was the most precious thing on the planet

you two could be watching a movie on the couch and somehow his head would end up in the crook of your neck, all his focus on kissing your soft skin instead of what was happening on the TV screen 

this would happen when you were trying to finish up some stuff for work too. you would be typing away on your computer and he'd be sitting next to you, so bored and in need of attention from you. he'd start pressing light kisses around your collarbone, and then move up your neck, his kisses getting rougher and more alluring. next thing you knew, your computer was on the floor along with a pile of both your clothes 

he loves it when you thread your fingers through his soft hair while he lays his head on your chest, which he also loves. he loved laying his head on your chest because something about hearing your heartbeat made him feel safe, feel at peace. his arms always wrapped around your middle and his cheek was always squished against your breasts. he just adored it--maybe even for a few other reasons too ;). seeing him like that after a hard day at practice or after a rigorous workout brought you so much satisfaction. you made him feel like that. he didn't need anything else to make him feel like that, just you. it was that simple 

he’s always giving you his full attention when you’re talking. it’s like you’re the only person in the room for him. you two could be on the sidelines of paycor right before kickoff, surrounded by thousands of fans and football players, but you’re the only person he’d be able to see and hear. the rest of the world disappears around him whenever he hears your pretty voice 

your family love love loves joe. 

initially, when you told them you were seeing someone and that someone was joe burrow, they didn’t believe you. they couldn’t believe that you bagged a football player, specifically the star quarterback, and you were slightly offended for a second but their initial reaction made the look on their faces even more enjoyable when you brought joe to your hometown for the first time with no warning 

joe was so nervous to meet your family, it was honestly so cute. he was so quiet and trying to keep calm the entire way to your parents' house. joe was the most confidant person and the most shy person you knew. the cool guy persona he sported every game day was there, but so was the adorable little shy baby that got in his head about things sometimes. he just wanted to be perfect for your family, wanted to show that he was the right man for their perfect & special daughter

your family loved him as soon as they saw him carefully help you out of his car, holding your hand tightly, and leading you to the front door all while making sure that your dress wasn't showing too much because of how intense the wind was that day. he was an absolute gentleman for you, and they loved that

he hit it off with your family within 10 minutes of being at your house, it was insane. he had so much in common with your siblings and even had great conversations with your parents. there was no silence in the house that day because everything was just constantly flowing naturally

he was most anxious around your dad but all of his nerves disappeared once he called joe out to the porch for a drink after dinner. joe thought he was about to get the 'you're a professional athlete, I know how they roll and I'll make your life hell if you break my daughter's heart' talk, but it was the complete opposite. your dad told him how thankful he was to joe for being in your life, for putting that everlasting smile on your face, for making you feel loved in a way you never had been loved before. that's what joe needed to hear, that he was doing good with you. doing good for you 

he’s so respectful to your parents and even addressed them as ‘sir and ma’am’ for a good second. you tried to tell him it was alright to refer to them by their first names, but he felt awkward about it because of how much respect he had for them even though this was his first time meeting them

eventually, he started calling them by their first names. you could see that he was getting more and more comfortable around them and didn’t feel the need to hold up a super suave act. he could be himself around you and your family, they felt like home to him. you felt like home to him

joe's parents loved you as soon as they met you as well 

they were so thrilled that joe had a woman like you in his life. someone who showed him so much love, care, and support 

you weren't super nervous to meet them, mostly because he gave you no time to be. he knew that if he told you in advance that you were going to Athens, you'd freak the hell out. so that's why he told you about 30 minutes before you reached his parent's house. you figured that he was just taking you someplace like a park to go on a walk or something simple like that, not to meet his freaking parents 

joe loved that he could bring you home to his family. he loved that he could show you around Athens and experience all the things he did growing up but in a new light because you were with him

he brought you to his favorite spots to eat, his favorite places to go on walks, his favorite shops, and places he spent a lot of time while growing up. he even snuck you into the football stadium--his football stadium--at the high school one night. joe remembered feeling his heart explode at the sight of your beaming smile once you stepped onto the field and saw his name plastered around the stadium. you just felt so proud of him and your entire body showed that. that's the moment he knew he loved you

he said those three special words, those eight letters, to you first. it came out so nonchalantly one night like it was something that was meant to roll off his tongue that easily. hearing those three words come from his mouth for the first time felt so right, like the stars and planets aligned specifically for you both in this moment. 

the funny thing was, he said it as you guys were stargazing. you were lying on a big blanket in his backyard and watching the planets & stars together

you were looking up at the sky and there was a big smile on your face as you counted how many stars you could see. joe also had a big smile on his face, but not because of the stars. it was because of you. he was looking over at you, thinking about how he was genuinely the happiest he had ever been in his life at this moment, how things finally felt right in his life. it was all because of you

"the stars make me think about how infinite the universe is, but even with all that endless space, the thing I want most in the world is right here next to me. being with you makes everything else feel small, like all I need is right here," he said to you

and then he ended his sweet small speech with an adorable, sorta quiet because he felt nervous, 'i love you'

you felt your heart explode when you heard him say those three words. the same three words you wanted to say to him since the day you met. you had never loved someone like you loved joe, this was so special and you both knew it 

his house was so clean and organized, the exact opposite of what you thought it'd be like when you first came over. you thought it would be full-on bachelor pad, messy, boy vibes. but it really wasn't. it was clean, organized, well-decorated, and it stayed like that. it really felt like a man lived there, not a boy. and joe was a man all right, that was very clear 

joe loved to send you cheesy football puns. his personal favs were "you're the touchdown to my game-winning drive", "you've intercepted my heart and I'm not even mad about it", and "you're the MVP of my heart"

lots of late-night snack runs after prime-time games. it was honestly insane to you at first because you thought he'd want to get home ASAP, but he wanted his sweet treat--and he wasn't just talking about you ;)

he even brings you to practice sometimes. you loved to watch him from the sides, doing his thing and watching him in his element. he sometimes even through the ball back and forth with you before or after practice--always showing off a little to make you laugh

your form had definitely gotten better ever since you started throwing with him. you are learning from the best of the best

joe's closet is your closet. he loves it when you take his shirts and hoodies. you love how big his stuff is on you and also how everything smells just like him. it's even better when he's away and you're missing him. his scent is always on you no matter what

joe's always there for you whenever you come home from a hard day at work or are just having a shitty day in general. he's always there, holding you against his chest, letting you soak his shirt with your tears while he presses soft kisses on your forehead and listens to you vent about everything

he knows how hard you work, so it breaks his heart to see you crack under pressure or feel like you weren't doing enough. he gave the best advice and was the best listener, having him in your corner was the best thing that could've happened to you

it was also the best thing that could've happened to him. you were his escape from the pressure that the football life brought. his peace after all the chaos that transpired on the field. his calm within the storm

joe likes to get up early, like early early. he says that he likes to get the most out of the day, which is fair. but it's honestly so bad because you hate getting up early, but his adorable morning smile makes up for it. it's the first thing you're graced with when you get up

when he wakes up, you wake up (even if you feel like dying because it's so early). he always ends up laying his head on your chest as he presses kisses along your skin, your fingers lightly scratching his scalp at the same time. it's the best way to wake up in all honesty. in each other's embrace, all warm, cozy, and secure

he's so cute in the morning. his hair is all messy and he has this raspy voice that makes you want to pounce on him, even if it is still a little dark outside as the sun isn't even fully up. 

during the off-season, he made it a rule that he'd cook you breakfast at least twice a week. joe wasn't the best cook (he was learning) so his attempts at cooking breakfast were always so sweet to watch 

also because watching him cook breakfast half-naked was like personal porn for you. his tan, bare, muscular back was the star of the show

he'd attempt to make you french toast, pancakes, waffles, literally anything your heart desired. he got better each time he made you food, but also because he'd help you out whenever you made dinner so he picked up on a few skills 

it was pretty funny whenever he'd have breakfast fails. like the first time he tried to make french toast, he burnt them and one piece even caught on fire. it was so funny to watch him run around frantically trying to make sure he didn't burn the house down

he loved to help you out when you made dinner. he made himself your little sous chef, helping you out in any way he could. he'd turn on some music so you two danced around in the kitchen as you cooked together, it was something so simple but it brought you two so much joy

your favorite songs to dance around to together were disco by surf curse, my girl by the temptations, angeleyes by abba, heavenly by cigarettes after sex, apocalypse by cigarettes after sex, hunger by ross copperman, pretty boy by the neighbourhood, and lover by taylor swift

sometimes you were so caught up in dancing together that you completely forgot about the food on the stove. the dancing sometimes led to some other things, so naturally, you got distracted. you would end up ordering some chinese takeout and calling it a night whenever that happened 

joe loves kissing you. like a lot 

sure, he loves kissing spots around your body, but nothing could compare to the feeling he'd get when your lips were pressed against his

that man loves his sloppy, sexy, slow makeout sessions more than anything. noses brushing against each other, his hands wandering around your perfect body, tasting each other...it was so good. especially because 90% of the time they led to some other things ;)

joe was so careful with you in that sense. he always made sure you were alright before you two did anything. he never pressured you for anything, everything would be done on your terms 

he's too good in bed. like it's insane. he quite honestly takes your breath away. he can do it all. slow lovemaking & hair-pull worthy, sheet-gripping sex. the way he worshipped your body was truly something out of a fairytale. you'd lose track of time whenever you two got in bed like that, and it was honestly worth it. he was just so damn good. you wanted to stay like that with him as long as you could

he's a lowkey blanket hogger too. he wraps himself in a little burrito blanket, looking all cozy and soft while you stare at him with a straight-lipped face. buttt he caves and lets you into his little blanket burrito. it's so comfy, especially in the winter. the combined heat coming from his body and the blanket made you feel like you were in a soft cocoon 

joe loves it when you call him joey, J, burrito (a funny play on 'burrow'), or JB. you didn't really use his other nicknames such as shiesty, joe cool, or joe brr because it felt wrong. those were all football joe names. your nicknames for joe were just joe names 

he loved that he was just joe to you. he made sure when you first started dating, you got to know just joe. not Cincinnati Bengals star quarterback joe burrow. just joe

you always found joe doing the most normal things super hot and sexy. he could just be sitting on the couch and doing something on his iPad and you'd find yourself drooling (it was definitely because of that man spread that sent you into orbit)

bringing in bags of groceries out of your car, washing the dishes, putting away your laundry for you, cleaning up the kitchen. it was all so fucking hot. he was just so hot 

sometimes while he was doing these things, you'd have an epiphany. you'd realize that he was all yours. nobody else's, just yours. he'd laugh whenever he caught you like this. it was so enchanting to him how you'd randomly become hyperaware that you were his girlfriend and he was your boyfriend 

you and joe love flowers so much. you always surprise him with random flower deliveries (especially after a loss) because you know his face will automatically light up once he sees the beautiful plants. he also scheduled weekly flower deliveries for you. a vase of flowers would be at your door every monday morning, the perfect way to start off the week

he loves to pamper you as well 

he's always buying you things without reason. clothes, jewelry, books, random little knick-knacks. he just loved to show how much he loved you in every shape and form possible

all of your daily jewelry was given to you by him. your two necklaces (one being a necklace with his initial), your 3 bracelets, your 4 rings (two on each hand, one being a promise ring), and your anklet which had 9 citrine orange gemstones in it along with multiple diamonds

proper date nights are a must in your relationship. even during the season, he made sure you had one night in the week where you two went out for dinner together. but you'd also have the best date nights at home

sometimes you just ended up building legos on the floor & watching a silly movie as a date night, but you two loved doing simple things like this. sometimes you'd just eat dinner outside in the backyard together as a date night. sometimes you'd just go on a night stroll together. simple things like that were special because it kept you two grounded. you didn't need to go out and drop $200 on some fancy dinner when you could have the same level of enjoyment by sitting on the floor, building a lego set from 'the office', and stuffing your faces with takeout. as long as you were together, you didn't really care what you did 

he never fails to tell you how amazing you are. those sweet nothings he'd whisper in your ear every night before bed were the things you craved the most in your previous relationships. just being told how much you brighten his world, how pretty you are, how easy it is to love you, and other things like that made your day. he never skipped out on telling you those things

you love hearing his laugh. whenever he laughs around you, he laughs with his whole body. it's such a sweet sound, a sound you wish you could hear forever

you were so obsessed with joe’s body. his thick thighs, large muscles, veiny hands, and gorgeous face. he was a literal greek god, it was so hard to believe this man was real. he was equally as obsessed with your body too, and he made sure to show you that almost every night ;) 

your friends love joe so much. they always call him your prince charming, the man who made all your dreams come true and the man who treats you like you're a real-life princess. they always tease you because of how down bad you act for him too. whenever you're with them and joe isn't there, they have to keep a tally of how many times you bring him up or say 'i miss joe'. they find it precious that you act that way for him 

when he first met your best friends over dinner, he was lowkey intimated by them. they're so protective over you, so they had this tough front on. the entire dinner was like a test for him, and he passed it with flying colors

they watched as he paid such close attention to everything you said, how he was holding your hand under the table, how he subtly checked in on you to see if you were comfortable, offering his jacket in case you were cold, stayed off his phone the entire time, his nonchalant & genuine compliments towards you, making sure you were included in all the conversations, actively engaging with your friends and making a genuine effort to get to know them, his gentle touches like placing his arm around you or lightly rubbing your arm, how he spoke so highly of you, how he took care of the small things such as filling your water glass without you even having to ask, the little inside jokes you two had, and noticing and responding to your little signals when you got anxious that only your friends knew about until now

after the dinner, your girls pulled you over and they had the biggest smiles on their faces. they told you to send them a save-the-date invite ASAP because they knew you were going to marry that man. they saw the way he acted around you and that alone was enough to seal the deal 

his friends loved you too. they instantly noticed how perfectly you matched joe's vibe, how happy you made him, and how you were practically made for one another. they called you two peanut butter & jelly; you went together so well

game days were always so fun for you two

you grew up in a football family so you were already a big football girl before you even met joe. being a football players girlfriend was written in the stars for you 

joe didn't believe you initially when you mentioned to him how much you loved football. he thought you were just saying that to impress him. he found out the hard way that you were being serious 

you two were watching a MNF game (prior to actually becoming boyfriend/girlfriend) and your (then) favorite team was playing against one of their longtime rivals. joe's jaw was on the floor the entire game because of how you were screaming at the tv, jumping onto your feet at every bullshit flag & call, and so locked in on everything that was going on 

your keenness towards football made your relationship even more exciting. you'd get to watch your boyfriend do what he loved, which happened to be one of your favorite things in the world

seeing you in his suite every week gave him an extra boost. he knew you were watching him and he wanted to make you proud & happy at all times 

he also loved to see your game-day outfits. seeing his name, his number, his colors all around your body did some unspeakable things to him. sometimes he wondered how fast it would take for anyone to notice he was missing. the storage closet seemed like the prime quickie spot on game days ;) 

you had a routine before kickoff too. you'd go down to the sidelines before the start of the game to give joe a little pep-talk and it always ended with a passionate kiss and little handshake you two made up on your first date (a sort of good luck manifestation tactic). at the end of the game, win or loss, you'd be waiting in the tunnel to give him his post-game kiss and a singular rose (as you know, he loves getting flowers)

the orange rose you gave him after the 2021 AFC championship game (the super-bowl sending game) sits in his office. he got it pressed and plated by a professional, a way to preserve the special memory that the flower held 

the love you two shared was truly something that only came around once every few lifetimes. it was so special, so rare, so exciting 

“every time I look at you, I feel like I’m falling in love all over again. the way you laugh, the way you move, even the way you think—it’s all so beautiful to me. i could spend the rest of my life just watching you be yourself and never get tired of it. i can’t stop thinking about you. you’re always on my mind, like a song stuck on repeat. every time I’m with you, it feels like the world fades away, and all I can see, hear, and feel is you. i’m completely mesmerized with everything about you," he said to you

--The End--

[lieslab]

Mess is mine

Pairing: Seungmin X gn reader

Summary: After missing for a couple of weeks, Seungmin comes back home to find you struggling with an anorexic relapse.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 1.7K

Trigger warning: Mentions of food, diets, weight loss and weight gain, starvation, counting calories, and body dysmorphia.

A/N: We're back on track with requests. Food and eating disorders are really mentally draining and ugh. They're really awful to deal with. I'm sorry to anyone who has to deal with them on the regular because they suck major ass. I always say it and I'll say it again, please be gentle with yourselves <3

_ _ _

You can’t see some illnesses and that’s just how it is. A person can look entirely normal to your face. Everything appears perfectly fine, but a smile can always be fake. Hidden beneath the skull, mental illness can bury themselves into the warm crevices of your brain far, far, far away from sight. 

Locked and drilled into you, how do you separate yourself from your mental illness? How do you keep it away from swallowing you and devouring you whole? How do you fight it before your mental illness claims your soul? 

Food was something you always struggled with. How amusing it must be to some people. How could you have a battle with something that every person needed to nourish their body? How did that happen? 

It wasn’t hard when you grew up in a world where models and actors and actresses were eye level in the store. The bold and accusatory titles had been ingrained in your head since you were younger. 

Some actress caught swimming at the beach had gained a bit of a stomach. Check out the interview with the Victoria’s Secret model who swore off sugar and went on strict diets for the upcoming famous Victoria Secret Fashion Show. Check out how this latest up and coming actor dropped a massive amount of weight for his new role. 

With everything at your fingertips, it wasn’t hard to find a parent’s worst nightmare. Tips on Tumblr for how to starve yourself. Reddit threads about how people lost weight and kept it off. Insane and unsustainable diets that were sure to cause you to crash and burn. 

It wasn’t a surprise when you fell victim to an eating disorder. A silent struggle that you always thought about any time a bite of food came near you. How many calories was in this and that? 

Did salt and pepper add more calories to your food? Maybe you should eat your salad plain and without dressing because calories count in every little thing. With your own brain against you, you were driving yourself mad until you thought you would burst and on and on it went and then…and then you met Seungmin. 

It’s not another person’s job to fix you, but when Seungmin found out, he helped you the best that he could. He took you outside on walks every now and then, so the two of you could talk. On the days you admitted that you didn’t have breakfast or lunch, he made you nutritious snacks. 

The beginning was the most difficult thing in the entire world. You remember the salted taste of the soup he made for you one day. The recipe was out of your hands and he didn’t tell you what it was. You silently freaked out in the bathroom because you didn’t know how many calories you consumed. 

A hundred calories was basically five hundred and five hundred might as well be a thousand, plus a few hundred. It’s a sticky situation that’s hard to get out of. 

However, you knew this inner battle couldn’t go on forever. You knew you had to try and fight and you were jealous. You were jealous of the people who ate what they desired and stayed around the same weight. You hated that you didn’t have the same mindset as them, so you tried. 

You tried to keep the same mindset and you were brave. You ate the dessert after dinner, you ate the snack between lunch and dinner, and you ate breakfast. You didn’t realize you had gained weight until you finally stepped on the bathroom scale.

The next day, Seungmin left for Japan. It was only a few weeks that they’d be doing promotions. When the band came back to Korea, they’d be getting ready for another comeback. Seungmin wouldn’t have time for you and you were grateful because this was a mess and you needed to fix it. 

Weeks later, you didn’t realize that Seungmin had let himself into your apartment. You came home from work utterly exhausted and defeated. You pushed the door open to your bedroom and stumbled inside. 

Seungmin was in the kitchen and he had helped himself to the items in your kitchen. He was preparing the two of you a snack when the front door opened. He dusted off his hands and began to head towards your room. 

Too distracted by your own thoughts, you didn’t hear his footsteps as he approached your bedroom. You bent down to tug off your work shirt and ripped it over your head. Your work pants soon followed and during that time, Seungmin’s heart dropped. 

Through the setting sunlight, he could make out the ridges in your spine. He was able to count your ribs again. You grabbed an oversized shirt and shimmied into it. The cotton baby blue hung down to your mid-thighs. 

You didn’t bother with a pair of pants as you dropped back onto the bed. Still unaware of Seungmin’s presence, you pulled out your phone and shot him a text. He was supposed to be home today, but you didn’t know when and asked for clarification. 

When a notification bell came from the hall, you jerked up in shock. Your eyes were wide as Seungmin stood in the hallway. You hated that the first thing you noticed was the disappointment in his eyes. 

Body dysmorphia was a very scary and real thing. You were starving yourself. The skin was stretched tight over your bones. Carved out cheekbones and a perfectly sharpened jaw completed your face. You struggled to force your eyes to meet him. 

“Seungmin, I-” 

“Why?” He got out softly as he approached you. His hands gently reached out and he grabbed your hips. The padded flesh had melted away. The comforting feeling was left jagged and unnatural. “When was the last time you ate?” 

“I can explain, I-” 

“You relapsed. You relapsed and you didn’t tell me. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

The tears filled your eyes before you could stop them. Your voice fell out shrill. “I-I’m sorry, but you were busy and I-” 

He pulled you into his arms and wrapped them around you. “You’re not and you’d never be a bother to me. I don’t care if I’m up in the air and halfway around the world or a few countries over. I’m your boyfriend and I don’t want you to suffer alone. I know this is hard and scary, but please don’t shut me out.” 

“I-I-” Your voice cracked as it wavered. “I didn’t mean to. I gained weight and it wasn’t that much, I know, but it felt like I suddenly gained a thousand pounds. I just wanted to lose a few more and I-” 

Seungmin’s sudden warm squeeze cut you off. You shut your eyes and put your head on his shoulder. In the very beginning of your relationship, you had struggled with things like this before. It was never easy to be vulnerable with another person. 

You were his entire world and he wasn’t going to let you suffer alone. He sucked in a deep breath and inhaled the familiar scent of your body. You were his home for months now and you always would be. 

It was finally washing over you that this was a battle that was greater than you. Sometimes we can’t fight battles on our own and sometimes it’s better to ask for help rather than suffer in silence. 

There’s a weariness and fear in being vulnerable, but there’s a warmth and a light in some people. Some people will do anything in the entire world to try to make you feel better. They’d set themselves on fire to keep you warm if they had to. 

“When was the last time you ate?” 

“I don’t know,” you finally admitted. 

Seungmin pulled away and looped his hands through yours. “Come on,” he tugged you towards the kitchen. Your feet remain rooted to the ground and fear began to bubble in your stomach again. 

“Please don’t worry. I made us a small snack and I promise you, you won’t gain weight from it. You need something in your system, so you don’t pass out. What if you passed out in the shower? Do you really want paramedics oogling over your moist and naked body?”

A smile began to tug at the corners of your lips. “You know that I hate that word a lot. It’s such a disgusting word and I-” 

“Oogling or moist?” 

“Both.” 

“That’s just too bad. Come on, we have a lot to catch up on. Just wait until I tell you what the guys and I did. Come on, go faster! I got on pinterest while away and found the cutest little snack inspirations and I made them!” 

You smiled softly as you let him lead you to the kitchen. You weren’t sure what to expect, but it wasn’t too often that Seungmin could be so soft. It made you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. 

“Ta-dah! Do you like them? I think they’re very cute. I’d say that you can pick yours, but this one is mine. I made it and it reminds me of Lee Know.” 

Your heart melted as you found a piece of toast on a plate. Seungmin gently pushed the porcelain plate towards you. It was so cute, you thought you might cry. 

A thin layer of peanut butter had been spread over the toast. The scent of bananas still lingered in the air. He had applied a small slice of banana to each top corner. Another banana slice sat perched in the middle of the toast. Two raisins placed above them created eyes and another raisin on the middle banana slice created a tiny button nose. 

“It looks like a bear, right? I thought it was cute. Sometimes you like to sleep a lot and it reminded me of hibernation and bears. This one is mine,” he pointed to his own slice of toast, “it’s a cat.” 

Two blueberries sat in the middle of the peanut butter toast for eyes. A single strawberry had been cut up. Two triangular speckled slices sat on each corner to create ears. Tiny snips of strawberry were placed along another smaller slice of strawberry for whiskers. 

“You know what dogs do to cats?” 

Before you could respond, he grinned and took a huge bite out of the toast. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

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[nyxshadowhawk]

A Retrospective on Harry Potter

Why did I like it in the first place? What about it worked? Where do I go from here?

I have decided to give up Harry Potter.

J.K. Rowling’s reputation now stinks to high heaven. At this point, she is quite indefensible. And even if that weren’t the case, she is not someone that I would want to associate with anyway. Meanwhile, the internet has not only turned against her, but against Harry Potter itself. An innocent question on Reddit, about which Hogwarts Houses the ATLA characters would be in, got downvoted to oblivion. Innumerable Tumblr threads insist that fantasy fans should get into literally anything else (suggestions include Discworld, Earthsea, The Wheel of Time, and Percy Jackson). And now that Harry Potter is no longer a sacred cow, there has been a recent slew of video essays that rip it to shreds, attacking it for its poor worldbuilding, unoriginality, and the problematic ideas baked into the original books (like the whole SPEW thing), etc. Those criticisms always existed, but now they’re getting thrown into the limelight.

It pains me to see such an ignoble downfall of Harry Potter’s reputation. If Rowling had just kept her damn mouth shut, Harry Potter would have aged gracefully, becoming a beloved children’s classic. I'd still plan to introduce it to my own kids one day (after Rowling dies and the dust settles). It’s not surprising that not all aspects of it have aged well, since it’s been more than twenty years since its original publishing date, and everything starts to show its age after that long. I acknowledge that most of the criticisms of the series that I’ve seen lately are valid, and I’ve read plenty of better books. And yet, when I return to the books themselves, even with the knowledge of who JKR really is inside my head, I still really enjoy reading them! There’s still a lot about them that I think works!

None of the other things I’ve read have had as collossal of an impact upon my identity, my values, and my own writing as Harry Potter. It’s hard to move on from it, not just because it’s something I enjoy, but because I have to literally extract my identity from it. I don’t know who I’d be without Harry Potter. I don’t know what my work would look like without Harry Potter. I don’t know how to carry it with me as just another piece of media that I like, as opposed to a filter for who I am as a person. So, with all that in mind, I have to ask myself why I liked Harry Potter so much in the first place. If I’m going to move on from it, then I have to be able to define and isolate the things about it that I want to keep with me. Something about it obviously worked, on a massive scale. So what was it?

It’s not the worldbuilding. The worldbuilding is objectively quite terrible, especially in comparison to that of other fantasy writers who knew what they were doing. At best, it’s inconsistent and poorly thought-out, and at worst it’s insensitive or even racist. Is it the characters? The characters are, in my opinion, one of the stronger parts of the story. But I felt very called-out by one of the many online commentators, who said that anyone who identifies with Harry is too cowardly to write self-insert fic. (I do not remember who said it or even which site it was on, but I distinctly remember the phrase, “Reject Harry Potter, embrace Y/N.”) The reason why people get so invested in Harry Potter’s characters is because they’re easy to project upon, and it’s possible that my love of Harry comes more from over a decade’s worth of projection than anything else. The incessant arguments over characters like Snape, Dumbledore, and James Potter ultimately stem from the fact that these characters do not always come across the way Rowling wanted them to. As for the writing itself, it’s decent, but not spectacular. Harry Potter is something of a sandbox world, with less substance than it appears to have and a crapton of missed opportunities, making it ripe for fanfic. For more than ten years, I’ve been doing precisely that — using Harry Potter as a jumping-off point to fill in the gaps and develop my own ideas, some of which became my original projects.

So what does Harry Potter actually have that sets it apart? Why are people so desperate to be part of Harry Potter’s world if the worldbuilding is bad? What, specifically, is so compelling about it? I think that there’s one answer, one thing that is at the center of Potter-mania, and that has been the underlying drive of my love of it for the past decade and a half: the vibe.

Harry Potter’s vibe is immaculate.

You know what I mean, right? It’s not actually a product of any specific trope, but rather a series of aesthetic elements: The wizarding school in a grand castle, with its pointed windows and torches and suits of armor, ghosts and talking portraits and moving staircases, its Great Hall with floating candles and a ceiling that looks like the night sky, its hundreds of magically-concealed secret doorways. Dumbledore’s Office, behind the gryphon statue, with armillary spheres in every single shot. Deliberate archaisms that evoke the Middle Ages without going as far as a Ren Faire: characters wearing heavy robes, writing with quills and ink on parchment instead of paper, drinking from goblets, decorating with tapestries. Owls, cats, toads. Cauldrons simmering in a dungeon laboratory. Shelves piled with dusty tomes, scrolls, glass vials, crystal balls, hourglasses. Magical candy shaped like insects and amphibians. A library with a restricted section. A forbidden forest full of unicorns and werewolves. That is the Vibe.

There are five armillary spheres just in this shot. They are unequivocally the most Wizard of tabletop decor.

There’s more to it than just the aesthetic, though. The vibe is present in something that writers call soft worldbuilding.

There’s a phrase that writers use to describe magic systems, coined by Brandon Sanderson: hard magic and soft magic. Sanderson’s first law of magic is, “An author’s ability to solve problems with magic is directly proportional to how well the reader understands said magic.” A hard magic system has clearly-defined rules — you know where magic comes from, how it works and under which conditions, how the characters can use it, and what its limitations are. Examples of really good hard magic systems include Avatar: The Last Airbender and Fullmetal Alchemist. If the audience doesn’t understand the conditions under which magic can work, then using magic to get out of any kind of scrape risks feeling like the writer pulled something out of their ass. It begs the question, “Well, if they could do that, then why didn’t they do that before?”

You may come away from that thinking that having clearly-defined rules is always better worldbuilding than not having them, but this isn’t the case. Soft magic isn’t fully explained to the audience, but that doesn’t matter, because it isn’t trying to solve problems — its purpose is to be evocative. Soft magic enhances the atmosphere of a world by creating a sense of wonder. If your everyman protagonist is constantly running into cool magical shit that they don’t understand, then the world feels like it teems with magic, magic that is greater and more powerful than they know, leaving lots of secrets to uncover. Harry Potter, at least in the early books, excels at this. The soft magic in Harry Potter is what got me hooked, and I think it’s what a lot of other people liked about it, too.

The essence of soft magic is best summed up by this scene in the fourth film, in which Harry enters the Weasleys’ tiny tent at the Quidditch World Cup, only to find that it’s much bigger on the inside. His reaction is to smile and say, “I love magic.”

That’s it. That’s the essence of it. You don’t need to know the exact spell that makes the tent bigger on the inside. You don’t need to know how Dumbledore can make the food appear on the table with a flick of a wand, or how he can make a bunch of poofy sleeping bags appear with another flick. You don’t need to know how and why the portraits or wizard cards move. You don’t need to know how wizards can appear and disappear on a whim, or what the Deluminator is, or where the Sword of Gryffindor came from. You don’t need to know how the Room of Requirement works. Knowing these things defeats the purpose. It kills the vibe, that vibe being that there is a large and wondrous magical world around you that will always have more to discover.

One of the best “soft magic” moments in the books comes early in��Philosopher’s Stone, when Harry is trying to navigate Hogwarts for the first time:

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk. —Philosopher’s Stone, Chapter 8

Many of these details don’t come back later in the series, which is a shame, because this one paragraph is super evocative! It establishes Hogwarts as an inherently magical place, in which the very architecture doesn’t conform to normal rules. Hogwarts seems like it would be exciting to explore (assuming you weren’t late for class), and it gets even better when you learn about all the secret rooms and passages. The games capitalized on this by building all the secret rooms behind bookcases, mirrors, illusory walls, etc. into the game world, and rewarding you for finding them. The utter fascination that produces is hard to overstate.

Another one of the most evocative moments in the first book is when Harry sees Diagon Alley for the first time, after passing through the magically sealed brick wall (the mechanics of which, again, are never explained). This is your first proper glimpse at the wizarding world and what it has to offer:

Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, “Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad....” A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium — Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Harry heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand — fastest ever —" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon.... —Philosopher’s Stone, Chapter 5

What works so well here is the magical weirdness of wizardishness juxtaposed against normalcy. Eeylops Owl Emporium is just a pet shop to wizards. A woman makes a very mundane complaint about the price of goods, but the goods happen to be dragon liver. Broomsticks are treated like cars. All of these small moments contribute to the feeling of the wizarding world being alive, inhabited, and also magical. It gets you to ask the question of what your life would be like if you were a wizard. What do wizards wear? What do they eat? What do they haggle over and complain about? What do they do for fun?

In Book 3, Harry enjoys Diagon Alley for a few weeks when he suddenly has free time, and we get to experience the wizarding world in a state of “normalcy,” when he isn’t trying to save the world. He gets free ice creams from Florean Fortescue, gazes longingly at the Firebolt, and engages with delightfully weird people. He’s a wizard, living a (briefly) normal wizard life among other wizards in wizard-land. And that is fun. It’s so fun, that people want that experience for themselves, enough for there to be several theme parks and other immersive experiences dedicated to recreating the world of Harry Potter.

One of the greatest things about Universal was its phenomenal attention to detail. You can hear Moaning Myrtle’s voice in the women’s bathroom, and only the women’s bathroom. The walls of the Three Broomsticks have shadows of a broom sweeping by itself and an owl flying projected against the wall, so convincingly that you’ll do a double take when you see it. Knockturn Alley is down a little secret tunnel off of the main street, and that’s where you have to go to buy Dark Arts-themed stuff. It’s really well done.

Another thing that contributes to the vibe, in my opinion, is that the wizarding world is slightly macabre. They eat candy shaped like frogs, flies, mice, and so forth, and they have gross-tasting jellybeans. In the film’s version of the Diagon Alley sequence above, there’s a random shot of a pet bat available for purchase. In the third film, when Harry is practicing the Patronus Charm with Lupin, the candles are shaped like human spines. In the first book, this is Petunia’s description of Lily’s behavior after she became a witch:

Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that school, and came home every holiday with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was — a freak! —Philosopher’s Stone, Chapter 4

I remember reading this for the first time, and it just kind of made intuitive sense to me. I suppose it fits into the “eye of newt and toe of frog” association between magical people and gross things, but somehow it works. Unfortunately, this is retconned later with the knowledge that wizards can’t use magic outside school, but before that limitation gets imposed, the idea of Lily amusing herself by turning teacups into rats seems like an inherently witchy thing to do.

That association between magic and the macabre shows up elsewhere, as well. In The Owl House, Luz’s interest in gross things is one of the things that marks her as a “weirdo” in the real world. When she goes to the magical world of the Boiling Isles, weird and gross stuff is absolutely everywhere. That world’s vibe leans more towards the macabre than the whimsical, but it works because you sort of expect the gross stuff to exist alongside the concept of witches, and that they would be an intrinsic part of the world they inhabit. You don’t question it, because it’s part of the vibe.

(The Owl House is one of the few things I’ve encountered that has a similar vibe to Harry Potter, but it’s still not the same vibe. In fact, The Owl House outright mocks the expectation that magical worlds be whimsical, and directly mocks Harry Potter more than once. The overall vibe is much closer to Gravity Falls.)

The Harry Potter films utilize a lot of similar soft worldbuilding with the background details, especially in the early films that were still brightly-colored and whimsical. For example, the scene in Flourish and Blotts in the second film has impossibly-stacked piles of books and old-timey looking signs describing their subjects, which include things like “Celestial Studies” and “Unicorns.” When Harry arrives in the Burrow in the same film, one of the first things he sees is dishes washing themselves and knitting needles working by themselves, taking completely mundane things and instantly establishing them as magical. In that Patronus scene with Harry and Lupin, the spine-candles and a bunch of random orbs (and the obligatory giant armillary sphere) float around in the background. One small detail that I personally appreciate is the designs on the walls above the teacher’s table in the Great Hall, which are from an alchemical manuscript called the Ripley Scroll:

It’s all these little things that add up to produce The Vibe.

Obviously, much of the vibe is expressed very well in John Williams’ score for the first three Harry Potter films. The mystical minor key of the main theme, the tinkly glockenspiel, the strings, the rising and falling notes that mimic the fluttering of an owl, the flight of a broomstick, or the waving of a wand. That initial shot of the castle across the lake as the orchestra swells, as the children arrive at their wizarding school:

If you grew up with Harry Potter, just looking at this image gives you The Vibe. The nostalgia hit is definitely part of it, but The Vibe was already there, back when you were a child and you didn’t have nostalgia yet.

In my opinion, only Williams’ score captures this vibe — the later films, though their scores are very good, do not. But the soundtrack of the first two video games, by Jeremy Soule (the same person who did Skyrim) absolutely nails it. This, right here, is Harry Potter’s vibe, condensed and distilled:

This is why I feel invalidated by the common advice “just read another book.” I have read other books. I’ve read plenty of other books, many of which are wonderfully written and have left an impact on me. But there’s still only one Harry Potter. To date, there’s only other book that has filled me with a similarly intense longing for a fictional place, and that is The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern. That book deliberately prioritized atmosphere over everything else in the story, and actually lampshades this in-universe. The Night Circus has a plot and it has characters, but it’s not about its plot or characters. It’s about the setting and its atmosphere. It swallows you up and transports you to a fictional place that is so evocative and so magical that you just have to be part of it or you’ll die. And even then, The Night Circus has a different kind of vibe from Harry Potter. In this particular capacity, there’s nothing else like Harry Potter.

The thing is, I don’t think Rowling was being as deliberate as Erin Morgenstern. (In fact, given many of Rowling’s recent statements, I question how many of her creative choices were deliberated at all.) She was throwing random magical stuff into the background without thinking too hard about it, which works when you’re writing a kids’ story, but stops working when you try to age it up. Actually, scratch that — soft worldbuilding is definitely not just for kids! The Lord of the Rings has a soft magic system, for crying out loud, and Tolkien is the original archmage of worldbuilding. Don’t listen to anyone who tells you that prioritizing atmosphere over meticulousness is bad worldbuilding. That is a valid way to worldbuild! Not everything needs to be clearly explained, not everything needs to make sense. The problem is that Harry Potter doesn’t balance it well. Certain things do have to be explained in order for the magic to play an active role in the story (and the setting of a magic school lends itself to that kind of explanation), but no rules are ever established for the kinds of magic that need rules. When you begin thinking about the rules, you’re no longer just enjoying the magic for what it is. At worst, you begin running up against the Willing Suspension of Disbelief.

It wasn’t actually the “aging up” of the story that did it in, per se, but rather, the introduction of realism. The early books were heavily stylized, and the later books were less so. A heavily stylized story can more easily maintain the Willing Suspension of Disbelief. That’s why, for example, you don’t ask why the characters are singing in a musical — you just sort of accept the story’s outlandish internal logic, and the inherent melodrama of it doesn’t take you out of the story. Stylized stories are more concerned with being emotionally consistent over being logically consistent. The later Harry Potter books changed their emotional tone, but without changing the worldbuilding style to compensate.

In addition to the more mature themes and darker tone, Harry Potter introduced more realism as it went, but Rowling did not have the worldbuilding chops to pull this off. There’s the basic magic system stuff: When you begin thinking about it too hard, something like a Time-Turner stops being a fun magical device, and starts threatening to break the entire story. Then there’s the characters: Dumbledore leaving Harry on the Dursleys’ doorstep in the first book is an age-old fairy tale trope that goes unquestioned, but with the introduction of realism in the later books, it suddenly becomes abandonment of a child to an abusive family. The exaggerated stereotypes of characters like the Dursleys become tone-deaf. The fun school rivalry of the House system is suddenly lacking in nuance. And then there’s the shift in tone: The wizarding world that we were introduced to as a marvellous place is revealed to be dystopian. You start thinking about how impractical things like owl messengers are, you start wondering if Slytherin is being unjustly punished, the bad history appears glaringly obvious, the quaint archaisms become dangerously regressive. Oh, and the grand feasts are made through slave labor! The wizarding world suddenly feels small and backward instead of grand and marvellous. J.K. Rowling’s bigotry throws it all into an even harsher light.

This is why I’ve always preferred the early books and films to the later ones. There’s a lot of things I like about the later ones, but they’re not as stylized — they don’t have The Vibe. Thinking about things too hard is just a necessary condition of adulthood, but it’s still possible to tell a dark, mature story that is highly stylized. I really think JKR could have better pulled off that shift if she was a more competent worldbuilder. But it is painfully obvious that she did not think things through, and probably didn’t understand why she had to. In her defense, she did not know that her story would end up being one of the most scrutinized of all time. As it stands, her strength in worldbuilding was in the softer, smaller, deliberately unexplained moments of magic that were there just to provide atmosphere. And there were less and less of those as the books went along.

Pretty much all the Harry Potter-related content released since the last film — including Cursed Child, Fantastic Beasts, Hogwarts Mystery, Hogwarts Legacy, Magic Awakened, and that short-lived Pokemon Go thing — have been unsuccessful attempts at recreating The Vibe. In fact, the only piece of supplemental Potter content that I think had that Vibe down pat was the original Pottermore, back when it was more of an interactive game. And of course that got axed. That was right around the time things started going downhill.

Some of the art from Pottermore’s original Sorting quiz.

So what now? Well, that’s the question.

I think I can safely say that The Vibe was the reason I liked Harry Potter. It’s the thing I still like the most about it. I’ve spent years chasing it, like an elusive Patronus through a dark wood. If I can capture and distill that Vibe, and use drops of it in my own work, then perhaps I won’t need Harry Potter anymore.

I'm gonna write the story that I wish Harry Potter was, and when I'm a famous author, I won't become a bigot. I'll see you on the other side.

[albatris]

hewwo

I deleted the opening of rentalcar from tumblr months ago when all the ai nonsense happened but now it's back again because I'm me. it's fresh and edited! and shorter

here's the new chapter one for your viewing pleasure. enjoy! or don't. don't let me tell you how to live your life I'm not your mum

hi taglist hello - some of you have already read this! I hope you're having a nice day though 😎

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tw for paranoia, anxiety, hallucinations, swearing, general feelings of unease

Nat Finch blinked awake.

He was slumped forward in the driver’s seat of his rental car, his forehead pressed to the steering wheel, his body aching like he hadn’t moved in centuries. His feet were bare. His throat burned. His head throbbed. Curled over his shoulders was the familiar softness of the blanket from his back seat, the one he’d been meaning to give to the Larsons for two weeks now. A deep night breeze leaked through the slightly-open window to his right, the cold gnawing at the dampness that clung to his clothes, to his face and hair. He felt filthy, filmy, disgusting—more so than usual.

A muddle of memories and flickers and voices fought for space in his brain, bumping up against each other and overlapping, threads escaping every time he thought he’d grasped one. He was overcome, for a single surreal moment, by the sense he had just awoken from an exceedingly peculiar dream.

Nat Finch sat up, groaning.

Disturbed by the motion, plastic crinkled in his lap. A collection of granola bars was scattered over him, a few of them having tumbled down onto the seat next to him and the floor below. Like someone had dumped them unceremoniously over his head and just… left him like that.

He recognised the brand, vaguely—something hoity-toity and ridiculous he’d seen at the supermarket, fifteen dollars a goddamn box—but they weren’t something that had any business being anywhere near him. His bank balance barely scraped double digits at the moment.

“Who the fuck…” Nat paused, not sure what question he was even supposed to be asking. “Why the fuck…”

His attention edged upwards, to a scrap of cardboard folded neatly in two and perched atop his dashboard.

DO YOUR BEST! it read in a childlike handwritten scrawl.

Nat squinted harder. “What the fuck.”

He tried to think. His brain, sluggish and laden with fog and aching, refused to provide any context for the mystery shower of nutrition. Or the note.

Or… anything else, for that matter. He didn’t remember falling asleep; he didn’t remember stopping his car. He remembered leaving work, but it had barely been dusk when he’d left work and the trip from Stop ‘N’ Go to his apartment was fifteen minutes, tops.

It was not dusk anymore. The black outside was the pure solitude of the witching hour and the world beyond his window was silent, save for the buzz and pop of a single faulty streetlight a few metres ahead and the chittering gossip of crickets. No people. No cars. No movement.

Nat’s dread climbed. He craned his neck and strained to decipher his whereabouts. The lonely light offered only flimsy, spluttering illumination—some of it splashing into his car, some of it into dry grass and mesh fence lining the side of the road, most of it merely into the rumble of gravel directly beneath it. He had no idea where he was. He had no idea why he was where he was.

The disco ball hanging from his rear-view mirror glittered at him, blinking urgently.

He shoved the granola bars off himself, suddenly feeling contaminated. A strident, pulsating pain forked through every inch of his body at the movement—he gritted his teeth, letting out a hiss and a wince. The blanket went next, ripped from his shoulders and hurled at the opposing window in a multicoloured flurry. It crumpled to the passenger seat and Nat stared at it, prickling all over with the suspicion someone else had placed it on him. Someone else had been here. Watching. Leaning. Looming. Touching. His hand flew to the window winder and wound it, sealing the opening. Sealing himself in and the outside out.

And then he sat still, mind reeling, chest tight. Panic twisting in his stomach. He waited for his brain to kick over, for his memory to rush back, for the moment he shook free the dregs of post-sleep disorientation and went, Oh, that’s right! That’s why I’m here! That’s what’s going on! How could I have forgotten?

A minute passed.

And another.

Frozen.

Rigid.

Nat swallowed, hard. Nothing clicked into place. Nothing clicked and nothing clicked and nothing clicked. Why not? He’d left work and turned left down Rake Street like he always did. He’d done nothing out of the ordinary.

The night outside was alive. With every flicker-out of the streetlight, the dark whined at his window, still trying to reach him. A tapping, a whistling, a whispering in its own made-up language. Nat. Nat. Nat. Something’s wrong. Nathaniel. Something’s wrong. The dark that should not have been there. The dark that should have been dusk.

He'd lost hours. Hours. What the hell had happened to him? The note on his dashboard sat there, smirking. It knew things he didn’t.

Nat fought to breathe in.

Nat fought to breathe out.

Nat breathed in.

Nat breathed out.

Five things he could see were that gaudy leopard-print steering wheel cover, the smeared windscreen from too-old wipers, the radio, the hazard switch, his own hands, crusted in cracked, dried mud.

Four things he could feel were the press of the seat under him, the press of his work uniform over him, the sting of the cold on his feet, pain, pain, pain.

Three things he could hear were crickets and streetlights and dark.

Two things he could smell were the dull citrus hum of the vent-clip air freshener and the fact it was doing nothing to hide the fact he hadn’t showered in a while.

One thing he could taste was—

Okay, okay, alright. Okay. That would do it. Nat breathed in. Nat breathed out. Calm. Calm. Calm.

He reached gingerly for the ignition, exhaling in relief when he grasped the key still inside. He had that, at least. He hesitated, perched on an agonising threshold between hopeful anticipation and whatever reality was about to find him.

He turned the key.

Nothing.

He turned again.

Nothing. The car stuttered and clicked uselessly, refusing to start. Relief left him as quickly as it had arrived. Flat battery.

Nat breathed, “Ah, fuck.”

Nat breathed in.

Nat breathed out.

He twisted towards the back seat, feeling along the faux leather for his work backpack. He hauled it to himself and rammed an arm inside to seek his phone, shoving through a jumble of familiar shapes—notebook, hoodie, empty soft drink can for recycling, empty soft drink can for recycling, gum, nametag—ah, there it was.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Nat whined, his finger colliding with the power button. “Please, please, please—”

Nothing. Flat battery.

Nat breathed in.

Nat plonked his forehead back down on the steering wheel and released a long, agonised wail.

Simmering anxiety climbed into roiling terror. Terror branched sideways into paranoia. Paranoia bloomed up through his chest and into his throat, where it squeezed tight and threatened to choke him. He’d lost hours. Anything could have happened to him. Anything could have been done to him.

The dark outside mocked and laughed. The disco ball blinked its rhythmic little warnings. He could feel it all, even when he wasn’t looking.

Nathaniel. Something’s wrong. Nathaniel.

“No shit,” he muttered back.

What next?

He lifted his head and flipped the sun visor down to look at himself in the mirror. With no phone screen and no overhead light to guide him, it was hard to get a full picture. He tilted his head, twisted his neck, attempted to catch himself on some jittering streetlight. He snagged a few glimpses—a dribble of blood from a presumably cracked lip here, a smudge of dirt on a cheekbone there. The collar of his shirt looked bloody, too. His hair wasn’t sitting right, tangled black all caked together and hanging in thick clumps. Two trembling hands lifted, the quiver partially from weakness and partially from fear, and Nat gripped at his face. Tugging along those familiar edges and curves and juts, finding them not so familiar. Finding them wrong. Hollow. Caved in. His fingertips wandered down towards his jaw—

—and along the thick, uneven mumbling of stubble that hadn’t been there when he’d left the apartment that morning.

Nat’s heartbeat tripped up. He hadn’t lost hours.

He’d lost days.

Nat breathed in. And in. And in. Not enough. Too fast. His chest heaved. His lungs refused to fill.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no. He couldn’t have lost days. He couldn’t have lost days. Jesus Christ, Nat had never been the shining poster child of mental health, but he’d never lost days. He’d been God knew where for God knew how long. He’d been—his feet were bare, his hands and face were streaked with mud, someone had clearly been messing around in his car—he’d been taken. Drugged. Kidnapped. That scribbled note? Do your best? He was being toyed with, probably by some deranged serial killer. And what was with the granola bars? Some kind of clue? A message?

He had to go. Run. Get help. Something close to a whimper climbed up his throat and fell from his lips. His hand crept to the door handle and stopped.

He’d seen horror movies. Not many, but enough. The chase, the hunt, the twisted mind games before the inevitable kill… these were part of the fun. There was probably someone watching him right now, folded into the shadows and out of sight, waiting for him to panic. Waiting for him to make his first mistake and step outside.

Waiting for him to start the game.

He couldn’t leave.

He couldn’t stay.

Could he stay? Could he just wait it out? Someone would find him. Someone would look for him. Someone would look for him, right?

No, no one would look for him. No one would care enough that he was gone.

No, there was no way they’d let him wait this out, whoever they were. They would find some way to lure him out, drive him out, force him into the waiting hands of the night air. Unprotected. Alone. All at once Nat felt a million eyes boring into him, leering from beyond the black, drinking in his every move. He shoved himself lower in his seat, clutching his dead phone to his chest.

Nat fought to breathe in.

Nat fought to breathe out.

He tried a final time to reason with himself.

When he’d worked twelve hour shifts four days straight, he’d started being dogged by the idea that someone had snuck a microscopic tracking device into his takeaway pizza, which he had subsequently consumed. When he’d been behind on rent for the third fortnight in a row, he’d become fixated on the idea that other customers in the supermarket were reading his thoughts and laughing at him. Look at this fucking loser. Grimy hair and track pants. Can’t even afford instant ramen.

Panic and stress tended to climb on top of him bit by bit. Panic and stress tended to twist all kinds of everyday events into all kinds of unnatural, terrifying shapes. It was normal. Even the tiny, audible hints of speech pushing through the dark, giving voice to his anxiety, those were normal under the right circumstances. It was all… no, not normal. It was a pattern. Tomorrow, he’d be fine. Tomorrow, he’d understand he’d never been in any danger.

So even though he was here now, helpless and stranded in the empty night, barefoot and filthy, abandoned by his memories and surrounded by leering scrawled words and fucking rich-people granola bars—he had to take this moment of clarity and hold it tight.

Tomorrow, this would all make sense.

DO YOUR BEST! the dark around him sang.

“Go to hell,” Nat spat.

And with that, he wrenched the door open.

[kathaynesart]

What do you take from the Rise movie’s “This isn’t about me,” message? *It’d be interesting to see this become a Tumblr thread cause I’d love to see what others think too.

That's... an important line to decipher. Deep enough to mean so many things but vague enough to be easily taken out of context. I have a lot to say about it, but I'll keep it under the cut to save others the trouble.

TLDR: Future Leo's a dum dum hypocrite

I think... when Leo used the line in the future timeline. He was trying to remind Casey of the harsh reality that they existed in. That this was a world where they sometimes had to set aside their personal wants for the greater good. It's for that reason that Leo was able to ask Mikey to do the unthinkable and sacrifice himself in turn.

What I find fascinating about the movie, is that it both supports and counters this message. It tries to find that healthy middle ground, between present Leo's narcissistic attitude in the beginning and the downright sacrifice he's willing to make by the end. Because him sacrificing himself was NOT the happy ending. And while we get that "ending" for only a moment. We can see that method doesn't feel right either.

In that way, I don't think "it's not about me" isn't actually the "message" of the movie as some might assume at first glance. Merely a gentle reminder to check yourself before you wreck yourself. Because technically, yes, "it's not about me" does apply to many aspects of life. We can get so caught up in our own worries and concerns and perspectives and it just... muddles reality in a way. We need to see how our actions and words affect others and understand that there's so much more out there than our own little bubbles. But we also should understand our own worth within the big tapestry of life and be willing to fight for the things that matter to us.

That's why I think the actual message of the story isn't "it's not about me." It's about balance. It's about the knowing look Leo and Raph share in the end and the fact that Mikey was able to achieve the true, best ending with his brother's help to save Leo, because they know that the world may mean more in the long run, but they mean the world to each other, and I think it's really important to understand.

But that's just my long-winded opinion on the subject and there’s plenty of other interpretations I think I can totally get behind as well. It will be an element within Replica but let's also remember that Future Leo is kind of hypocrite with this line. He's says "It's not about me" but that's coming from someone who the entire resistance has centered around as its leader. He's probably a little tired of the idolization by now and does not like the idea that he's somehow more important than others. I think that's where that line really stems from for Leo. It's obvious that Casey isn't just talking about his importance as a leader, but Leo with the same line is asking him to set those feelings aside even if he is one of the most important people in Casey's life.

And then Leo turns around and throws one of the most important people in his life through the portal. A damn hypocrite (/positive)

EDIT: I was sort of ending it on a silly note but @dandylovesturtles added such a great point that I haven’t been able to put into words but feel in my heart when it comes to future Leo and definitely something I want to show with the healing process he’s been going through in Replica: and that’s the “not all about you” sometimes just means that bad things happen but you can’t just blame yourself for it, and it’s not some cosmic attack for your mistakes. The world did not come to an end because of Leo’s mistake, even if he might have once felt like that. What’s more it means you can’t put the whole world on your shoulder or always try to fix things on your own like how Leo tried to after Raph’s capture. It’s ok to seek the aid and support and ideas of others your trust. It really lines up so well with a lot of the events in the film.

Thank you @dandylovesturtles and everyone else’s amazing comments! I want to hear all of them and take notes.

[arcielee]

She Walks in Starlight

Summary: A goddess comes to ask for help to save her friends. Paring: Aemond!Hades x OFC!Persephone Word Count: 4358 Warnings: Mention of character(s) death. It’s HotD and Greek mythology, so there will be incest.   Author's Note: So, the whole Aemond as Hades trope has been done before BUT NOT BY ME so lets go. My inspiration came from this Aemond drawing: artist. It’s so nifty. Also, huge shout out to @aspen-carter for her ceaseless patience and helping me edit this. I am so grateful to have her as a friend because her writing is just top tier and her insight is so wonderful. ♥ Also! Gō vys is Valyrian for Under world. Enjoy! Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @sirenofavalon​ @annikin-im-panicin​ @aaaaaamond (slash means I am unable to tag you)  Series:  Act I -  Act II - Act III

ACT I

“Little goddess, you are far away from where you belong.”

This was the truth spoken, for she never before dared venture away from her mother’s watchful gaze, never pressing beyond the boundary she swore she implemented for safety. Today it was fate that propelled her soft steps to follow the trodden pathway that wove from her realm into his. 

His tone was low and voiced with authority, but she did not feel threatened despite the grim scenery she now found herself in. The Underworld seemed just a shadowed, desolate reflection of the mortal realm above; it was not shroud in darkness, mostly void of pigmentation save the veily blue hue that enveloped all around. She watched the souls make their way towards the ferryman, unaware their fluid steps were not solid against the grey sand that spread the shore of the river Styx. 

“Aïdōneús,” she used the ancient moniker, for who else would be present other than the lordship to the realm of death? She spoke his name as she heard from the hushed whispers of the mortals, who were afraid to misstate and bring unwanted attention from the king of the dead. For her, it was an ancient tongue known to the gods and it spilled like a sweet nectar from her wet lips. She pressed on the ball of her foot to turn and face him. 

Throughout the ages, many adjectives have been used to describe him and beautiful was the first to her mind. 

The contours of his face were sharp as the marble stones that the mortals would carve the gods’ likeness into and it gave a severity to his expression. She saw the left side of his face, marred from his heroism from the tales of the Titanomachy, with a gash that began above his brow and cut through, curling into his cheek. His bravery had been rewarded with his kingship of the Gō vys and a brilliant sapphire stone that was set into his scarred socket. 

Cold and stern, was often used, a firm accountability held for the laws held. Monstrous. Menacing. She assumed these descriptors were spoken by cowards, for all she could see was an esthetical deity.

He towered over her, his arms were tucked behind his back and it emphasized his broad shoulders. Silver scars littered over, brilliant streaks in contrast to the plum chiton draped over his lithe figure with golden thread knotted around his slender waist. The dark tones he wore gave a luminous intensity to his alabaster skin, like a godly beacon in the realm of grey. 

He kept his distance, but she saw his head tilt from the gleam of the red ruby set in his crown and the soft glimmer of his silver tresses that spilled forward with his subtle movement. 

“I have come to ask you something,” she continued, her voice unsteady, but her eyes boldly returned his steady gaze.

There was a haunting beauty to the mismatched coloring of his stare, his lavender eye and the glint of his sapphire eye, that caused her heart to reverberate within her chest.

“You traveled all this way to ask me a question?” His baritone continued and there was a flicker of amusement, the slight curl to his lips with his mellifluous words. “Please ask so I may best assist the goddess of spring.”

She felt the flush of pleasure. He knows who you are, the thought flutters throughout her head and she cannot stop her smile. “I wanted to ask if it was at all possible for a soul to be returned to the mortal realm?” 

A low hum rumbled in the back of his throat and he took a deliberate step to close the space between them; the flicker of amusement is gone, his expression now as cool as the marble it was carved from. “This cannot be done, little goddess,” his silver words carefully chosen for his silver tongue. “It is the fate of every mortal to die and once that threshold is crossed, they cannot return to that life.” 

Her renewed grief comes with its sickening hold, clenching her heart and the threat of tears pricked her eyes. She swallowed thickly, only then breaking her bold stare and instead she looked over the spirits that continued forward, awaiting their turn to cross. 

It should have been me.

“Who did you lose?”

His soft tone pulled her attention back and she can see his brow is furrowed. “My friends,” she refused to cry in front of the king, no matter the kindly concern etched onto his features in the moment. “They were taken suddenly and do not have the gold to pay the passage.” 

He hummed a second time, still low but thoughtful. “They are not yet lost, little goddess,” and the familiar curl of his bow lips gives her the flutter of hope. “Come back tomorrow and we can see what may be done, but,” his gaze rolled over her, locking onto her face once again. “I would advise not to return empty handed when you come to beg a favor from the king of the Underworld.” 

+ + + + + + +

He dared teased the goddess of spring and then he relished in her response to the reminder of such a timeless courtesy. The rose coloring flushed her ivory tones, her embarrassment clashed with the thrum of her vitality beneath and it brought out the sun speckles across her nose and cheeks. 

How divine the thought of his lips to kiss each one. 

She left chagrined and he was certain he would not see her again, save the movements when he would slip to the surface for a reprieve from the dead, a shadow in watch of the gods who resided in the mortal realm. He had not expected her to return the following day and with a basket she showed was filled with delicacies of cheeses, olives, figs, and more.

He saw her coming, her steps almost familiar with the pathway that led to his realm. “You returned, little goddess,”  it was a statement more so than a question. 

“I have, Aïdōneús.” 

Aïdōneús. A name long forgotten, spurned from the fear it held amongst mortals, but she was dauntless with her pronunciation, just as she was bold with her stare. It was the sweetest sound, both familiar and unfamiliar, a sound that he would spend his immortality to follow its every behest.  

Even though her tone was cool, he noted her white knuckled hold on the wicker basket. “I have returned and I have brought you an offering,” she continued, shifting her weight to rest it on her hip. “You also may call me by name or you may call me Kore, if you desire.”

Desire. There is an unbridled fervor in his gaze as it rolled over her curves, so sinfully wrapped in the peplos linen but his posture remained reserved, his arms crossed behind and one foot stanced.  

“As you wish, Kore.” 

He did not say another word and his hand reached for hers; he was pleased that she took it without hesitation and his skin prickled from the warmth of her palm. He whisked her forward and he felt her grip tighten, looking back to see her eyes wide from the abrupt movement. He pulled her closer to his chest, his other arm wrapping around her waist with a firm hold. 

He brought her to a pomegranate tree that is curled on a ledge overlooking the knolls of silver grass, decorated with aimless spirits. 

There was almost an ache when he released his hold and he kept his arms open, watching to make sure her steps are balanced on the solid earth. “I apologize,” his voice was almost sheepish with his realization. “I am so used to getting around and I forget…” 

He is grateful that she does not press him to finish his thought. Instead, he fell back and watched as she spread the cloth, the white billow of fabric that settled on the ground, and placed the basket in the center. She offered to pour him a glass of wine and only then does he take a seat, breaking the bread, while he shared that their view is the asphodel meadows where good souls reside, a neutral ground for peaceful spirits. 

He wanted to bring her here and show her. “This is where your friends will eventually be,” he finished, lifting his goblet to his lips. 

Her eyes watched the bob of his neck as he drank the wine and she admitted, “This seems so dreadfully dull for the good souls.” 

“They no longer have the tedious shackles forced on them from the mortal realm,” his lips curled upwards with his further explanation. “They feel nothing and this allows them contentment to wander these fields.” 

Her nose scrunched. “I understand this,” she breaks a piece of the bread, allowing the wine to dye it red. “That, however, does not change my initial opinion.” 

This is a moment that broke through the kingly demeanor that he carried with his every step, his every movement within the cosmos. She watched, wide eyed and rosy, as his laughter lines his cheeks with dimples, the king of the Gō vys has dimples! She savored the genuineness of this moment and she cannot help but giggle as well. “It is beautiful, though,” she continued with a shy smile. “I see why you chose this spot.” 

His demeanor darkened and he smirked. “Kore, this pales in comparison to your springly creations. I only brought you to show you the bit of vegetation that can survive within my realm.” 

She tilted her head upwards, looking at the deep burgundy of the ripe pomegranates that hung low on the branches. “Are they edible?” 

He leaned onto his side, propped up onto one elbow and his fingers traced the decoration of the gilded goblet. “It is, but without the same savory flavors as,” and he gestured towards the basket that slowly empties with their picnic. “There is a cost of their consumption,” he cannot help the edge of bitterness to his voice. 

Her eyes widen, not with fright but curiosity, to the animosity of his words. “What is the cost?”

“Anything eaten or drank chains you to the realm,” he answered, solemn, and was surprised by the glint in her eyes. 

It draws his gaze to her and, again, he can see the thrum of her ichor beneath her ivory skin, her eyes focused on him and framed with dark lashes, her stare as dauntless as earlier. 

“It is the cost to rule a kingdom,” she offered, blinking and it is seemingly gone, her expression now doleful as it looks over the silver hills that spread infinitely before them. “It is better than to be destined to be the forgotten goddess, tied to her mother’s shadow and just a decoration who nurtures flowers.”  

He was watchful in this somber moment; there was a silence that was not uncomfortable, but he felt the returned fervor from before to ask more, to understand more. There was a tingle in his fingertips to reach for her hand, to knit his fingers so perfectly with her own, just so she may remember she was not alone. 

Instead, he waited.

She pulled herself to stand and reached her hand towards him, the radiance of her smile returning, a divine glow amongst the eerie meadow. “Come and show me more of your kingdom.”

And he obliged her. 

+ + + + + + +

Time, she learned, was different in the Underworld. 

She allowed herself to tour the Gō vys, tucked so close to his side and allowing him to show his kingdom, from the Asphodel to the Erebus, to watch the passage of Acheron and learn the ferryman was men, twins who let a foolish misunderstanding result in the simultaneous slay and he offered them an alternative to serve him. She met Vhagar, the rumored three headed beast who in truth wished for belly rubs and she happily inclined. 

There was a panicked realization when she resurfaced and saw the moon bore overhead. Her steps were quick homewards, muttering prayers to Gaia, to Rhaenys, to whomever was listening and she begged her mother would be unaware of the time lost. 

“You smell of death.”

Rhaenyra was the golden goddess of harvest and fertility, her mother the very embodiment of the sacred laws of the cosmos. Her eyes narrowed on her arrival, but she managed only a hint of anger to touch her overwhelming interrogative tone. “Where have you been, Kore?”

She hummed a lie, something enough to dissuade further suspicion her mother may hold, just a silly little goddess who had gotten lost within the cosmos. She continued to add another promise she would never dare return. 

This was another lie. 

“Aïdōneús,” she greeted him the next day and was pleased with his expression, which was almost incredulous at her return. 

“Kore,” he responded with the same warmth, the curl of his lip when he reached for her hand. She allowed him to take it without thought, a blush crept over as he brought her knuckles to his lips, the tickle of his breath to her skin. “Please, I meant to say this yesterday,” he did not release his hold, his dichromatic gaze watchful. “You may call me just Aemond, if you wish.” 

“Aemond,” and she said his name with the same sweetness and reverence, enjoying her familiarity with the king and how the rose color dusts his cheeks when she repeats it. “I admit, I have come to ask another favor.” 

“More souls you wish to return to the mortal realm?” 

He regretted his words the moment they left his lips, when he saw the pain that danced across her eyes. His apology was caught in his throat, the explanation for his tasteless jest, but she already shook her head and that pain was gone. 

“I wish to show you a place that is dear to me,” but her tone is careful. “Are you able to come with me to the mortal realm?” 

I would go anywhere you asked of me, he does not say and instead he nodded, the shimmer of his silver hair. “I can leave, though not for long periods of time,” he shifted his gaze. “It is a tether to the Underworld. There is a pull, almost an ache, that grows the longer I am away.”  

A smile returned to her lips, pink and inviting. “I will not keep you too long from the duties of your kingdom,” she promised and offered her hand to him. 

Traveling within the Gō vys requires a celerity to his movements; there is a rush of wind with his quick motion from one place to the next, whereas she seems to frolick, pulling to keep him at her pace as they flit from the shadows and move towards a small isle. At first glance, it only holds the wreckage of the temple to appease the averter of evil, its ruin ironically from a temper tantrum of the gods. 

“But why here?” Aemond was curious as he looked over the cracked stylobate and the broken pillars split, with stone embedded into the soft earth around them. 

“There is beauty in the broken,” she smiled and pulled him to follow. “After Daemon and his temper tantrum, the mortals abandoned it, but I wished for it to blossom with new life.” 

He watched her climb over a fallen pillar and she peered up to him, beckoning him to follow. He dropped softly at her side, while the soft echo of her words, there is beauty in the broken, remained in his ear. Aemond saw her focus was ahead and he followed her gaze. 

His eye followed the curl of a turquoise moss that curled and decorated the stones, blooming with pastels. It continued to the reflection of the morning dew glittering off the almost iridescent petals, gleaming brilliant in the rising run; it showed the sea scheme of colors that stretched around them.

She was the goddess of spring, of vitality personified, and he is the darkness. But in this serene moment, there was an emotion, an almost tangible passion that entangled with the ichor of his veins when she reached for his hand again.

There was a spark as their palms fit together, as his slender fingers curled around her hand. “It is beautiful,” he said and his tongue wet his lips. 

She peered at him, the flutter of her own heart when she saw how his features softened in the intimacy of the moment, a satisfaction to be privy to the reserved pleasure that played on his face. There was the intrusive thought that begged her to touch his jaw, to press up to her tiptoes and dare to taste his mouth, and she wished to bring back a piece to his kingdom, just so she could relive the hint of his smile on his lips. 

“It is,” she agreed, tucking the thought away. 

+ + + + + + +

That night, she tucked herself into the athenaeum to pour over the scrolls her mother stored away, with Rhaenyra both pleased and proud of her rekindled passion for her role within the cosmos. 

Kore did not correct her. She needed her focus to return to what initially brought her to the Underworld, the fate she shelved and the growing burden with that neglect. She told herself that Aemond would be more amenable with an offering more tailored for the god of death, but in truth, she also wished to understand the growing thrum beneath her breastbone whenever she was within his proximity. 

There was a simple spell that would serve both. 

Though he would never admit to waiting for her, she was still pleased to see him on the edge of the plane, close enough for the sunlight to touch and give an ethereal glow to his chiseled features. There was a gentle breeze through his silver, silk tresses and she stopped her steps so she could admire him, the glimmer. 

He tilted his head. “Kore, what is it?”  

“Aemond,” she breathed. “You really are beautiful.” 

His jaw steeled with the compliment and she was quick to grab his hand, leading him below like a silver beacon into the blue hue of the Gō vys. Once they were in the shadowed realm, she turned to press against his chest, her softness melting against him and with her whisper, “Aemond, take me back to the meadows.” 

He, of course, obliged her. 

There was a comfort with how his arms, so strong and lined with silver scars, wrapped around her waist with a hold she knew could be trusted. The jarring movement still caused her stomach to lurch, but it was quickly replaced with the exhilarating rush and her laughter spilled from her lips. Only when she felt the tickle of the silver grass beneath her soles did he finally release his hold of her and they were back beneath the pomegranate tree. 

She curled with grace onto its roots and beckoned him to follow. He paused for a moment to appreciate how her robes nestled against her curves before he sits, close enough, with one leg up to rest his forearm on and the other arm pressing himself upright, his palm resting on the earth. His expression begs curiosity, but he is quiet. 

Kore and her sweet smile elicited his hummed response and he watched as she began to rub her palms together. A soft glow emitted between and her focus returned to Aemond, a golden goddess with the light, before she pressed her hands to the ground. Her eyes closed for a moment, her thoughts poured into the practice incantation with the wordless flutter of her lips. 

She opened her eyes and smiled again, his gaze shyly dropped to watch her hands lift and reveal the bolt of green that begins to stem upwards. He watched as its leaves unfurled and the red bulbs bunched together began to blossom.

His expression is one of awe, his jaw slack from seeing the life sprout from the grey earth and flourish with color before him. Aemond looked pained when she reached to pluck one, cupping it in her palms with a whisper, the same golden glow, before she presented him the enchanted flower, the petals unbruised and a vibrant red. 

“This will match the ruby in your crown,” she explained, shifting her weight to look at him. 

His expression was stoic, just a red reflection in his sapphire eye. “What are they called?” He asked when she opened his palm, his fingers spread as if his touch would shatter it. 

“These are called snapdragons,” she shared, her pride aglow with her creation, her validation. “They are able to handle the cooler weather, but their lifespans are not very long, which is why,” and her fingertips tickled his palm as she picked it up, careful to pin it to his chiton, “I made this one for you. This one will never wilt.” 

His gaze fell to it, his slender fingers pressed into the fabric around where she snugly fastened it, still cautious to touch. “Is this magic?”

He did not see the touch of pink to her cheeks, how she hemmed for her words to reply to him. 

She sought out this spell in the archives of her mother’s anethum, that would allow a flower to eternally hold its blossomed vibrance with a condition in place, an emotion from the spellcaster, something that hinted its existence from the day they spent together at the temple.

An emotion she felt irresolute to share now. 

She had thought it to be carnal at first. Desire, the unbridled passion that hummed within her when she first laid eyes on the god of death and his aery beauty. It was a fervor that burned within her as she drank his deliberate movements, the glimmer of his silver hair, the perpetual smirk that played on his pink, bow lips. 

This will fade, she told herself. She returned, undeterred and with purpose to save her companions, the fate that brought her to the Gō vys to begin. With her offering rested on her hip, she allowed herself to be swept away in his arms, flitting further into his kingdom. It was his touch that sparked something more, the sweet candor of their conversation, how she swore his steady gaze able to see her bones beneath. 

She felt confirmation at the temple ruins, from the moment she watched the colors of her masterpiece absorb into the exquisiteness he carried with him. She saw something, she felt something. 

There is beauty in the broken.

He was a timeless deity that had seen the fall of Titans and she was only the little goddess of spring. 

In part, she was proud of her power that grew, the vibrant glow of the snapdragon, but she also knew it stemmed from an emotion from her that he would never reciprocate. 

So all she said was, “Yes. Magic.” 

Her cheeks grew warmer still with his steady gaze, her silent prayers that he would not press for the truth of it because she knows she would never be able to lie to him. Aemond seemed to accept the words and then said, “I accept your offering, Kore. Tell me your favor and I swear I will do the best that I am able.” 

So she spoke of the fate that brought her to the Underworld. “I wish to pay the passage for two souls.” 

Her question did not anger him, but there is a sadness that crept to his features. “Kore, I would not be able to allow this,” he sighed, unable to look her in the eyes. “If I am to make an exception for you, I would have to offer the same courtesy to the rest and…” there is a pregnant pause, a moment that allowed her to choke on the emotion that threatened to break through and she saw the glimmer of silver when he tilted his head to watch her. 

“Persephone,” he said with his low baritone. “Why do you ask for this? What brought you to my realm?” 

She wore her shame like the chiton draped over her curves. Her tongue wet her lips as her mind tried for the words to express the suffocating guilt that built with her every visit. Begin at the beginning. On that day, there had been an enchanted flower that she and her companions, Baela and Rhaena, came upon. 

“A flower,” Aemond hummed, his expression unreadable. 

His comment left her feeling childish, ashamed to admit what followed. The flower seemed otherworldly, its petals glittered in the sunlight and beckoned to her, but she balked and stayed within the parameters Rhaenyra had placed. Baela and Rhaena teased at her sudden shyness, pushing beyond and dared to pluck it. 

In return, the earth rumbled to split open and swallowed them both. 

“I know that it was planted for me,” she finished, her fingers fidget with the rope tied around her waist. “What other purpose would an enchanted flower serve than to lure the goddess of spring?” Her cheeks were tearstained. “It should have been me.”

Aemond hummed again, the severity returned to his gaze and he looked away. She allowed herself a breath, the slow intake and exhale through parted lips, to relax her posture and rest her hands into her lap. He reached for her hand and she allowed him to take it.

It was with his touch that she could admit she loved him. There was a tenderness to his large hands, how his slender fingers were gentle to hold her own and the soothing gesture of his thumb making circular patterns on her palm.

“Kore,” he began and she looked up at him. “I will look further into this. I meant what I said that I am unable to return souls to the mortal realm, it is beyond my power, but I will find…” he hummed again. “Will you please come back tomorrow night?”

I will always find my way to you, but instead she only smiled, nodding her head. 

[distortedmoondisc]

Hiiro, who was raised to devote his whole existence to one person and that all his value as an individual is tied to the successful filling of that role. And then someone, the voice of the song—probably Hiiro himself, since he's the one singing this specific line—telling him that "there's meaning you'll never grasp" living as his own, independent person....

And that's just.... I don't know. It feels just so melancholic, for some reason. A sort of existential melancholy. It's reminiscent as to when you're told that we'll probably never discover all the secrets of the ocean or of space, or that we'll never understand 100% a specific topic or matter of study because there's so much information about it, it isn't humanly possible to process it all in a single lifetime. "There is meaning you'll never be able to grasp, there are things you'll never be able to learn or to understand." And that feels just so unfair and distressing, for some reason.

So that makes me think about how the lyrics are implying that Hiiro—despite enjoying his new-found freedom of being Hiiro Amagi, the Leader of Alkaloid, and not Hiiro Amagi, servant of his brother, the monarch—he might never be able to fully understand or to enjoy the meaning of his new existence ("there's meaning you'll never be able to grasp"). Hiiro grew up thinking that the rules of his hometown are universal truths and that he must uphold them above everything else—so if the rules tell him that he must dedicate his whole life to serve his brother and that he doesn't have any value outside of that, who is he to deny it? Who is he to fight it? Who is he to interrupt the social norm and the peace of his society? He says it himself in the main story: rules are meant to keep the peace of the community, and peace can only be achieved if everyone does their part without complaining.

So Hiiro already had the meaning of his existence, up to that point. He was Rinne's servant, he was a member of his hometown, and he had to bring his brother, the Monarch, back home to take the throne. It was very clear and simple — but then he met Alkaloid, and all of the idols of ES. He was exposed to the city, to the outside world, to countless different ways of thinking and ways of life. The MDM happened (including Rinne disowning him), and the meaning of his existence was broken. He's now free, but he's left without any guidance or absolute truths he can rely on a world so grand and contradicting he can't even comprehend it, and that realistically, he never will.

But then Mayoi's lyrics in come up, "With the suit of your soul—" and then the rest of Alkaloid sing together—"Persist in your belief."

And this is the part of the song where the existential melancholy gets turned upside down. Yes, Hiiro might never be able to fully grasp the meaning of this new life. Yes, he might never be able to fully understand the new world he's been thrown into, and he will have to struggle trying to navigate it on his own—but the lyrics are pushing him to keep moving forward despite of that. "With the new life you have been given, persist in your beliefs" it's an encouragement, a sort of comforting line. It's Alkaloid (Tatsumi, Mayoi, and Aira) telling him that despite the world being confusing and contradicting and so so vast with multiple wrong and right answers—the best thing Hiiro can do is try to keep tackling it head on, to understand it as best as he can, and draw his own logical conclusions about it.

Only then, he will live an autonomous life—and there will be meaning he will never be able to grasp, but that's okay. He isn't meant to, and that's fine.

Listening to vermilion always makes me so emotional for some reason. The song is just. Filled with so much emotion and something else I can't describe. There is a certain part of the lyrics that pierces my heart every single time

[ken-dom]

Ok, im sorry and im not sorry but you’re the only one in tumblr, and the only one in the goose community who is able to do best at this. I have to ask you.

Eating lars’s pussy.

(No force, if you don’t want to you don’t have to. It’s just that he’s been in my mind a lot and i keep vaguely relating everything i taste to his juices.)

Clutchie 🫶!! Ok first of all you are being far too kind, but thank you so much, and I hope my Lars pussy eating thoughts do your ask justice!

It just so happens I’m planning a Lars pussy fic, which I shan’t give away the details of just yet, but I am SO READY to share my thoughts and delve into this whole idea the same way I would delve into that delicious puss 🤌

Thoughts on eating Lars Lindstrom’s pussy

∘₊✧ NSFW, afab!Lars, gn!reader, legendary pussy

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Lars does groom, but only lightly. He likes leaving the hair to do its natural thing mostly, but will trim from time to time, usually when he’s grooming his mustache

He has a soft, puffy pussy, it feels so good against your palm when you slide a hand inside his trousers and between his legs to tease over his underwear while he’s blushing and losing his breath

He really likes it when you touch and grab a handful of his belly while you’re down there. You usually start off that way too; fingers inching up inside his jumper to stroke tenderly at the soft curve of his belly and trace over his happy trail while you're kissing and he’s writhing for more of your touch

He is SO sensitive

Because he spent so long without touch, everything good feels magnified

His clit throbs when he’s even just slightly aroused and he squeezes his thighs together to ease the pressure, but it only makes him want more and he ends up a total flustered mess, pressing his fingers into his eyes in a futile attempt to hide his blatant arousal

Lars gets so wet he feels embarrassed about it. Obviously you love it though, and reassure him it’s both normal AND sexy, but when you slip your fingers through his folds and he’s absolutely dripping from just some cuddling and kissing, he squeezes his eyes shut in shame and you have to coax him back to you with whispered words of how you love his juices coating your fingers and how delicious you bet he tastes

There is a gorgeous sloshing sound when you pump your fingers in and out of his plump, slick hole. He writhes and whimpers trying to adjust himself to stop the sound, while you want more and fuck him faster until he’s shaking, your hand slapping loudly against his perfect cunt with every thrust

The first time you push his legs apart and slide your body down between them, slip his trousers off and begin tenderly kissing his thighs, he panics, sure he must taste disgusting and you’ll never want to touch him again if you do that. Clearly this is not the case, and with some gentle reassurance and patience from you he calms and decides he does want to try it

You part his lips with your fingers and lick your lips at the sight. He’s glistening, swollen and so pretty down there

The first lap of your tongue, although careful and soft, awakens something in him and his thick, long fingers thread through your hair in an attempt to stay grounded while he grinds his pussy against your mouth to chase this dizzying sensation

Lars tastes incredible. He always smells so fresh, like clean laundry and floral soap, laced with a gorgeous musk when he's been out chopping wood in the yard. His kisses most often taste like toothpaste or whatever snack he's eaten right before you pounce on him. It's always so him. And his pussy? It's still him but it's out of this world

Finding touch painful for so long, it felt amazing for Lars when he became comfortable with your touch. He couldn't keep himself away from you — even more so when that touch turned from friendly to intimate to sexual. He never dreamed of what it would feel like to have his clit sucked and licked the way you do it, and now he knows he'll never get enough

Lars is always shy about making noise when you're getting down to it, but he can’t stop himself moaning when you’re sliding through his folds, sucking his clit and flicking your tongue in all the right places

He moans when you kiss, simply from how warm and soft and good it feels, so imagine the noises he makes when you're kissing him down there instead

You love to hear it and encourage it, but he slaps a hand over his mouth and bites down on the flesh of his palm to keep from crying out too loud (sorry Lars, but even muffled it still sounds obscene. And we want it to sound obscene. Please keep moaning)

You struggle to keep his legs spread when he’s getting close. He’s strong and his thighs are so beautifully thick, and they start to clamp around your head when you massage his g spot with your fingers and lap mercilessly at his clit

Tears prick at his eyes as his orgasm approaches. His back arches and his hips buck and he all but blacks out from the overwhelming bliss coursing through his body

As he comes down from his high, you leave a few more kisses at his thighs and hold his hand, interlocking your fingers to keep him close, easing him back to you as he sobs, tears wetting his cheeks

For the first few times you eat him out, you don't continue after his first orgasm. Knowing that touch in general is still new to him, you don't want to overstimulate him or take the risk of turning the pleasure you've given him into pain, so you take it easy and let him fully recover

If he wants more you insist on a break first. You both know that when he's a little more used to this new sensation you'll experiment with dragging orgasm after orgasm out of him

He holds you so tight as he recovers, as though he'll float away if he's not gripping onto you

You stroke his hair to soothe him. It's a mess after you're done, so you gently push it back to style it into something like it was before, but you leave his trousers and underwear off, pulling up a blanket to snuggle under together instead

You praise him, telling him how good he was for you, how delicious he tasted, how you can't wait to taste him again, and he whimpers as he slowly catches his breath, a big, coy smile pulling at his lips because he likes to please you

This naturally evolves into more kissing. It's fascinating, tasting himself on your lips. Fascinating and... kind of exciting? And Lars thinks that maybe he would like to taste you, too

[soisaidfine]

Ethel Cain: if i didn’t have such a dedicated group of people who like my music, touring would probably be 100 times worse honestly

I'm reblogging here creatospirito's post from the 'ethelcain' reddit. Interesting before the tour (The Childish Behaviour Tour)

"As Hayden's new tour kicks off in a few days, let's remember what she said at the end of her last tour. And let's be kind to her without asking too much from her on stage, as it's not her element. ♡" -Reddit Ethelcain

TUMBLR MOTHERCAIN - OCT 31ST

ANONYMOUS ASKED: do you think in an ideal world you could release an album without touring it or do you like touring until it becomes too much? is it being away from home and not having much time to create the parts you dont enjoy or is it something more than that?

MOTHERCAIN: no i hate touring. i was actually talking about this with florence (FLORENCE WELCH) last time i saw her, she was saying how some artists connect with their art on stage and others connect with it in the studio, which i thought was very interesting. i definitely only connect with it in the studio, when i’m alone and i can be intimate with it. it’s fully just a technical performance on stage. i try to hit the right notes and not look like an idiot and that’s it. i never feel anything in the music on stage which makes it harder than i think it is for artists who get that return of energy instead of just solely expending it. i want to create things in my dark room and put them out for the world to see and never have to go anywhere lol. i’m becoming more of a homebody with every passing year.

i do love my band though. all the time i spend with them is amazing, they’re some of my best friends in the whole world. they make touring worth it.

ANONYMOUS ASKED: you look so happy when you perform though and you seem like you enjoy being there seeing everyone and interacting with them.

MOTHERCAIN: i’m happy to see everyone who comes out to support us. that means a lot to me, i’m very grateful for that. in that other ask, i meant i just don’t connect with the music at all. when i have a room full of people who are all linked by the thread of my music though, that really makes the show for me. if i didn’t have such a dedicated group of people who like my music, touring would probably be 100 times worse honestly.

Video: Florence Welch (Florence and the Machine) and Ethel Cain performing Thoroughfare together, in Lisbon, September 1, 2023, Meo Kalorama Festival. By callmebyourname_ on Instagram.

[chimaerakitten]

hello! will laurence for the character ask? have a good day!!

First impression

Oh cool, I have seen Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (2003) and this guy is obviously basically that guy! I feel like I know him already!

(Sidenote I have since read the first book in that series and I think the differences between what young!Laurence must have been like and young!Aubrey are fucking hilarious. If Laurence ever in his life said even one of the things Aubrey says loudly at parties in that book he would never have met Temeraire because he'd have spontaneously combusted on the spot out of embarrassment.)

Impression now

There is something so wonderfully, horribly compelling about placing a character into a situation which forces them to do the one thing they would never, ever do, and then not only forcing them to live through it, but also completely reconstruct a new sense of self from the shattered pieces. Fucking great arc for a protagonist.

Favorite moment

SO hard to pick. Obviously the treason is up there, and he has some extremely funny comedic introspection (realizing that actually he is Temeraire's purse Chihuahua in crucible of gold) but I think the crown might actually go to him calmly giving orders while one of his own supposed subordinates holds a sword to his throat in LoD, neatly resolving a number of threads in his arc in the process.

Idea for a story

SO many. there's that body horror one I've talked about before, and like, a dozen basic post-canon or missing scenes, and also @elexuscal and I have lost our minds a little and started multiple AUs, of which the blood au is the only one posted so far but probably won't stay that way for long...

Unpopular opinion

While I like all his main ships either because I genuinely ship them or think they are very, very funny, his core relationship is with Temeraire and I am kinda dying for more Laurence & Temeraire gen content. This is possibly why elexuscal and I have started so many AUs.

Favorite relationship

As per the above, Laurence and Tem! (Lol Tumblr autocorrected that to Tim. thats right my fav Laurence relationship is with my OC Tim who I just invented right now) I love their intense codependent somewhat queerplatonic relationship, and all the ways they shape each other throughout the whole series, both when they're in perfect alignment and when they're going through a rough patch where they still love each other but can't help on their own.

Favorite headcanon

I think his life post-retirement turns into a baffling reverse-Austen novel where the single man in possession of a fortune is NOT in want of a wife, thank you very much, and you had best not mention it in his dragon's hearing. I also think he'll probably end up more involved in Temeraire's political career than he necessarily plans, because the man just Cannot let injustice slide, even when he would really rather just be Tharkay's kept man...

[enrychan]

so I finally beat DATV and I guess I'll write something about it while downloading BG3 (an early Christmas present from my best friend, a couple of days ago <3)

light spoilers under the cut

my main thought at the moment is just "meh". Thankfully DATV isn't a trainwreck like Andromeda, but it never exceeds the 6 or 7 out of 10 that I gave it while I was still playing it. The ending is good, but the results of such world-shaking events feel too rushed and not completely earned.

That's far from my main issue with the game, though. I don't think I can put all my thoughts in order at this time, so I'll just make a list of things that stood out to me, in a semi-random order.

I feel like I'm beating a dead horse at this point, with all the people already talking about it, but this story is completely toothless. In previous games Thedas felt real because of all the different struggles between its factions, and even many in-group rivalries/prejudices. But in Veilguard Rook's allies are all completely devoid of conflicting characteristics or problematic aspects. The Crows are fearless freedom fighters without a trace of all the very dark traits they had in the previous games. The Lords of Fortune are Good Pirates that raid in a 100% culturally conscious way. Even giving Minrathous to the Threads - a literal crime syndicate - has no major impact on anything, not even your own relationship with Neve. You don't even see any trace of slavery in the literal capital of the Tevinter Imperium.

On the other hand, the Wardens still retain at least some of their most "problematic" aspects, for which I was grateful. They were a small pinch of salt on an otherwise very bland meal.

Rook's companions were for the most part treated the same way, devoid of any real conflict whatsoever. I was hoping to see some fights between Lucanis and Davrin, or between Taash and Emmrich. but everything solved itself very easily in the space of like. one conversation, maybe. And I'm not even mad about that, specifically. In Mass Effect, Shepard solved some conflicts by just inserting themselves between the two bickering companions and telling them to shut the fuck up. Rook doesn't have that kind of charisma, though. Luckily for them, their companions apparently don't have strong enough opinions to sustain any kind of serious discussion. I mean, I always thought that one of the most interesting aspects of this series was having strongly opinionated companions, each representing a certain way to see the world and its problems. but maybe I'm wrong.

I'm not saying that the companions were bad. actually they were nice (a little too nice tbh) and sometimes some conversations rang true and heartfelt. Which frustrated me even more! At least I just disliked the Andromeda companions. These though... they had so much potential! Urrgghghghghhh

The Rivaini/Qunari and non-binary stuff about Taash was painful. It was written so badly. I could almost hear Bioware asking if it was politically correct enough from behind the courtains. And I was like. Man idk. Aren't these pirates? Why must you defang and declaw them to this point? It sounds so fake.

Isabela, my beloved, what have they done to you? like 99% of the pirate!Isabela headcanons that you see on tumblr is better than this. I could cry, but I'll just pretend that that was a lookalike. The real Isabela was out there on the sea, pirating with her crew. And a really big hat.

To steal Hbomberguy's words, "it's a smooth and palatable pebble that isn't particularly disagreeable, but slides out the other end completely undigested". He used this phrase for Deus Ex: HR but I think it fits DATV perfectly.

On the same topic, I romanced Lucanis, because of course I did. A dark, deadly, tortured spanitalian assassin abomination? That's basically My Trash(TM). Unfortunately, with the exception of a single moment where the whole thing risked getting almost interesting, for the rest it was a pretty boring romance. Which is INSANE to me. How?? How do you screw up something like that?? Where's the drama?? The passion??? Anders was a sad wet man from the sewers and he managed to be more passionate than this???

Some conversations between him and Rook were still cute, though. I just wish there was more to it.

I loved the environments, in general. They were very beautiful, sometimes even stunning. I didn't particularly like Arlathan, it felt cramped and it was excruciating to explore with all those doors and barriers and magic bridges. But the other maps were lovely. My favorite were the dark and creepy ones, of course. I loved the Grand Necropolis, and also everything relating to the Wardens.

On this note, I loved IN THEORY the idea of bringing back the darkspawn hordes. I've always loved those, they remind me of Origins, which is always a good thing.

I said "in theory" because in practice I HATED the new combat system. I can live with the Mass Effect-like combat, but the fact that the two companions are immortal while the only one to take damage is Rook is just complete bullshit. My squishy mage was constantly bombarded by enemies' attacks on every possible front, to the point that in the tougher fights she could only run around and sometimes give orders on the fly so her companions could maybe kill the creatures in her place (and they were bad at it). I tried for many hours to make it work, and I did get pretty good after a while, but I HATED every single minute of it and in the end I lowered the difficulty level just to get to the end more quickly. Just awful. I'm guessing that's what remains of a previous "live service" version of this game. Ugh.

The music was another complete disappointment. This series had an incredible record of banger after banger ever since Origins, and I'm one of the like. Five people that actually loved most of Inquisition's soundtrack. But this time it's just generic_RPG_music.mp3, apparently. Hans Zimmer my FOOT.

I'm a fan of Hans Zimmer, and that's NOT him. Or maybe it's him when he has 0 ideas head empty idk.

Bioware should have just asked Trevor Morris again. The only times in Veilguard where the music tugged at my heartstrings, it was Inquisition's soundtrack. It's a real shame, because a good soundtrack can really elevate even a mediocre experience.

The result of all these factors, is that in the end I didn't really care much for these characters, so I wasn't that worried to lose them. This version of the "suicide mission" was rather relaxed for me.

(In ME2 I thought I would panic and die IRL at some point)

There were a couple of moments near the end where I actually Felt a lot of Feelings, not because of Veilguard, but because of everything from the previous games. Nevertheless, they added something to a generally dull experience, so those were good.

I loved Assan. I loved griffons in general. They reminded me of my dogs, and i live for my dogs.

Also I loved the hair physics. My Rook had beautiful red curls. And freckles <3

[lady-bluebird-luv]

Hello again - Santa here! I just can’t stay away. I hope you are enjoying Feysand week, spooky season, and that beautiful autumn weather surrounds you!

You did such a good job of playing the build a fic game, I think you might be sneaking ever closer to Santa’s nice list! However, now I have several ideas kicking around and I would love to hear a little more from you to lock into the best present possible.

1. What do you love about Feysand? What are some of your favorite moments?

2. Is there a certain stage of their relationship you can’t get enough of? UTM, early ACOMAF, Velaris, post mating bond? Or maybe you’re interested in what’s happening after ACOSF?

3. Do you have any favorite headcanons or things you think we missed out on in canon?

Enjoy the rest of fabulous Feysand week giftee!

Santa, all I want is to be on your nice list 🥹. Happy Feysand week!!! I could write 300+ pages on these questions, but I don't think Tumblr will let me write a post that long. I think (I hope?) these answers will still give you plenty to work with, though.

1) The short version is that I love Feysand's unconditional acceptance and support for each other. I saw something about how the appeal behind enemies-to-lovers is that it means your partner saw you at your worst before they saw you at your best, and they loved you anyways. That's very true for Feyre and Rhys. I know some people, especially post-ACOSF, talk about Feyre being naive about Rhys's asshole-ness or being brainwashed by the mate bond. IMO, she's always seen the darkness, and she simply does not give a fuck. Rhys likewise recognized a similar darkness in her before she saw it in herself. Rhys will be a monster to protect the people he loves, and Feyre loves him for it because she's the same.

They're the ultimate ride-or-dies for each other. In ACOTAR, Rhys was ready to damn the world to protect Feyre. When he tried to scare her into leaving Prythian, he wasn't just condemning himself to Amarantha, but potentially damning everyone else to an eternity UTM, too. No cursebreaker, no freedom, right? Similarly, when Rhys dies in ACOWAR, Feyre is ready to daemati the other courts into bringing him back - a diplomatic nightmare in the long run, but she doesn't care. There's something undeniably selfish about their devotion to each other, but for me... it just scratches an itch that no other ship does.

I also adore the mentor/mentee dynamic in their relationship. Maybe it's the daddy kink in me, IDK. Growing up, Feyre hasn't really had someone who will not only be on her side, but also provide for her - she got parentified at 11. Both with Tam and Rhys, we see that she wants a partner who will provide for her if she needs it - the reason Feylin doesn't work and Feysand does is because Tamlin imposes that provision, and Rhys doesn't. Feyre wants room to do her own thing, but she wants to know that, when she needs it, she has someone who she can lean on. I'm obsessed with Rhys both wanting to be that person and with him wanting her to (literally) grow her own wings. He never holds things she doesn't know against her, and I think their personalities are endearing together in part because of their age/experience difference.

One of the songs that reminds me the most of them is Hozier's NFWMB, if that helps. I actually have a whole Feysand playlist here (the order is kinda important but only a little).

2) As far as favorite stages go (and favorite moments, to carry that over from your first question), I'm obsessed with ACOMAF and early ACOWAR. I've talked a little here about how I think Feyre is angry at Rhys in ACOMAF partially because she doesn't know what to do with her attraction to him, and here about how ACOMAF is about Feyre accepting and loving herself, not just accepting and loving Rhys. Both of these threads are a big part of why I love Feysand. IRL, People are messy, flawed, complicated, and almost always still loveable. I think ACOMAF Feysand embodies that perfectly.

I love the moment at the beginning of ACOMAF when Feyre overhears Ianthe suggesting they assassinate Rhys and she's horrified, because it shows how in denial she is. I love the confrontation with Lucien in the mountains because Feyre realizes she's willing to do something that she would have once considered unthinkable (hurt Lucien) to protect Rhys, and she's not upset by it. I love when they pretend the mating bond broke, because their ability to play off of each other shows how they really are birds of a feather.

That's also why I adore Feyre at the beginning of ACOWAR - she's being so wicked, but it's all her. Rhys isn't giving her input on her strategy. Her deception in the Spring Court also shows how much she's learned from Rhys.

3) I really wish we saw more of Feyre being a politician. E.g. Feyre holding court alone in the Hewn City, putting Keir in his place like in the beginning of this fic I'm currently slobbering over from @rosanna-writer. In general, I'm obsessed CoN/dark!Feysand, and I wish SJM leaned into their dark sides more.

I also think we got robbed of a Helion/Rhys/Feyre threesome in canon. (I'm generally intrigued by Rhys and Helion's definitely-not-totally-platonic history, but this post is already pretty long, so that's for another time). Sometimes, I also wish that we saw Feyre and Tamlin sitting down to talk about everything that happened. I'm kinda of two minds about that, though - I don't think Feyre is the one who needs that conversation in order to find closure, and I don't want her to talk to Tam just because he needs her to.

I don't know if we'll ever see adult Nyx in canon, but I would love to eventually see teen/young adult Nyx, especially during his HL training. I want to know how he reconciles the tender, loving parents he has behind closed doors with their sometimes-brutal public personas. I want to know what he thinks of the mythos surrounding his family and how he navigates intercourt relations (especially relations with the Spring Court?) as he takes on more and more responsibility. I want to know what he thinks of Eris: they're both princes, but where Nyx would do anything to protect his parents, Eris is willing to take a blade to his father.

UMMMM I'm trying to think if there's anything else. I think there is, but that's all that comes to mind right now.

Santa, I'm so sorry for the late response! I hope you're as excited to catch up on all the Feysand week fics as I am :).

[incorrect-mtg]

Flavor Text Highlights

So, one thing that I did two years ago (and have kept updated since) on twitter was my flavor text thread, where I went through each set in Magic history and picked the top 4 (or, for some exceptional cases, 8) best pieces of flavor text in my opinion.

Since then, I have regreted some choices and very much dislike the fact I can't edit the original tweets to reflect changes on the rules I followed for card selection... So I might as well use Tumblr as the place to correct all that.

Every day from now on, I will re-post a set from the list until I catch up to it, then eventually update it as new magic sets come out. The rules for selection can be seen after the linebreak below (as well as a full list of sets I've already gone through, with links). The first one can be found here.

1- Categorization

I will always try to select a diverse list of cards so as to fill the following 4 categories of flavor text types:

Cool - Boasts and descriptions that serve to make the subject matter of the card seem powerful and/or interesting.

Funny - Dialogue, descriptions or epigrams meant to get a laugh out of you

Worldbuilding - Flavor text whose biggest strength comes not from what it says on its own, but how it helps build upon either the world the set takes place in or the story of the set in question

Emotional - This one could conceivably be separated in two whole categories, but it encompasses cards that would fill the same niche as the "Cool" category but with a specific focus on either sadness or horror.

However, there will be situations where there might be a number of good flavor texts within a certain category while another is found lacking of any truly great options. In such scenarios, I will simply remove one (and in rare cases more) of the categories and repeat one of the remaining options. For an extreme example, the first Un-sets barely had any non-Funny options, so when picking cards from those sets most/all of the picks will be from the Funny category.

2- Card Selection

Cards will be reviewed only if they have new flavor text (using scryfall's "new:flavor" filter) and only if it's original flavor text (aka no real world references or quotes from literature) while sets will either be reviewed alone or grouped up depending on the amount of eligible cards in the set. Although I don't have a hard cut-off point for how many new flavor texts a set needs to be reviewed alone, the general range is around 150.

For sets that don't reach that number, they will either be bundled with an associated set (i.e. reviewing Commander precons with their associated Standard set) or bundled with a lot of other smaller products until a suitable number is reached (i.e. bundling all early Masters sets and Duel Decks together, since the amount of new flavor texts in those products is very low).

2.1 - Cycles

For some sets, a collection of cards (usually a cycle) will have flavor texts that work together, expand on each other or combine into a single theme. If said interaction is particularly good or if there isn't already a good flavor text that can stand up on its own, a cycle might be picked for a specific entry. Below, I will try to set up a list of every post for this, in order:

Alpha/Beta/Unlimited

Antiquities

Legends

The Dark

Fallen Empires

Ice Age | Homelands | Alliances

Mirage | Visions | Weatherlight

Portal

Tempest | Stronghold | Exodus

Portal Second Age

Unhinged + Unglued

Urza's Saga | Urza's Legacy | Urza's Destiny

Mercadian Masques | Nemesis | Prophecy

Invasion | Planeshift | Apocalypse

Odyssey | Torment | Judgment

Onslaught | Legions | Scourge

Mirrodin | Darksteel | Fifth Dawn

Champions of Kamigawa | Betrayers of Kamigawa | Saviors of Kamigawa

Core Sets (4th Edition - 10th Edition)

Ravnica: City of Guilds | Guildpact | Dissension

Coldsnap

Time Spiral | Planar Chaos | Future Sight

Lorwyn | Morningtide | Shadowmoor | Eventide

Duel Decks

Shards of Alara | Conflux | Alara Reborn

Magic 2010

Zendikar | Worldwake | Rise of the Eldrazi

Magic 2011

Scars of Mirrodin | Mirrodin Besieged | New Phyrexia

Commander Precons (Commander 2011 - Commander 2019)

Magic 2012

Innistrad | Dark Ascension | Avacyn Restored

Magic 2013

Return to Ravnica | Gatecrash | Dragon's Maze

Masters Sets

Magic 2014

Theros | Born of the Gods | Journey into Nyx

Conspiracy + Conspiracy: Take the Crown

Magic 2015

Khans of Tarkir | Fate Reforged | Dragons of Tarkir

Magic Origins

Battle for Zendikar | Oath of the Gatewatch

Shadows Over Innistrad | Eldritch Moon

Kaladesh | Aether Revolt

Amonkhet | Hour of Devastation

Ixalan | Rivals of Ixalan

Unstable + Unsanctioned

Dominaria

Battlebond

Magic 2019

Guilds of Ravnica | Ravnica Allegiance | War of the Spark

[cipheredsong]

Don’t Ever Lose It: an essay on threads consistent for Vi throughout Arcane, and what it means to have and lose your place in the world through the loss of loved ones

for the first time in years I've gotten way too excited about a piece of media that isn't from my own head, and how do I engage with it? by writing an essay. academia has changed me irrevocably but I hope that someone else can also enjoy my descent into madness.

if I get the time, I have a paired essay planned for this regarding Caitlyn and grief, which I skimmed over here to remain focused on Vi's arc and character. warning: this post contains SPOILERS for act 1 of Arcane s2, as well as the whole of s1. buckle up kids, this is 3k words of me being one hell of a nerd. I've never posted something this long on tumblr before so let's all hope the formatting survives.

Vi as Her Family’s Protector

There are more than a few words to describe Vi at the beginning of Arcane — sister, leader, fighter, then criminal and ally. Protege and prodigy, who wins against men twice her size in fights where she is outnumbered. At the core of every fight, at the center of who she is, is “protector.” Vi has charged herself with this task, and been charged with it by outside forces as well: Vander, who warns her that her crew looks up to her; Powder, who adores her and follows her all but blindly. It is this central identity as a protector that Vi carries throughout the series, and it is this identity which is stripped from her by force in season two, disrupting her place in the world and the story.

The first time that the audience sees Vi, she is in that role as leader, executing a heist in Piltover with Mylo, Claggor, and Powder. The other three look up to her and follow her, and when the heist goes south and causes issues both at home and above, Vander is sure to remind her of her power.

[25:40 ep. 1 – Arcane s1 act 1]

He warns her that because of their willingness to follow, Vi is the one who bears the weight of responsibility for whatever she leads them into. This warning is filled with good intentions for all of their safety, but also unintentionally serves to instill in Vi a guilt over all that is to come. Vi becomes resolute in her desire to protect her family. She is, in fact, so steadfast in this desire that she nearly turns herself in to the Piltover enforcers when she learns of the trouble that her heist is causing, and the ultimatum that has been given to Vander. She believes that this would protect her family, and her actions also uphold another of Vander’s messages to her: that not every trouble can be solved with fists, because sometimes violence only serves to deepen divides and make situations irreversible. Vi is only stopped from turning herself in by Vander, who, at the last moment, shows up and takes her place.

This choice on Vander’s part, to, in turn, sacrifice himself for his family, is what leads up to the end of s1 act 1. It is also a choice which is nearly identical to Vi’s. There is a reason that Vi is sometimes seen as Vander’s protege, and it is because they step into similar roles. In the moments before his arrest and then capture by Silco, Vander tells Vi this:

[3:40 ep. 3 – Arcane s1 act 1]

Immediately after, he tells her to “protect the family.” He validates her choices while stepping in to take the fall, confirming for Vi that her choice to take this blow for her family was the right one. Again unintentionally, Vander, through the best of intentions to protect the children he has raised, has given Vi reason to believe that taking blows for others is the right thing to do, and that nothing is more important than family. She is young, and desperate, and in circumstances that feel dire, she has no chance to take in this lesson and parse through it. Instead, she takes it and flings herself into a rescue attempt. In the process of the rescue attempt, as a way to further protect her family, she insists that Powder stay behind.

It is this sequence of events that builds up to Powder’s attempt to intervene on her own, and the deaths of much of Vi’s family. Which is, of course, not to pin all of the blame on Vi, who was still a kid doing her best with what she’d been given — but Vi does eventually take much of the blame on herself for not protecting them, and especially for not protecting Powder, who she turns her back on at the worst possible moment. She spends years in prison thinking that her sister might be dead, and one of the first things she says when they’re reunited is that she tried to come back. She was a scared, grieving child, as was Powder, and the clash and blow between them were a mistake born of Vi’s fear and anger.

[33:55 ep. 6 – Arcane s1 act 2]

There’s a lot of significance to the points of contact in moments with Vi. Here, the way that she reaches out to hold her sister’s head is a parallel to the way that she struck her back in act 1. It’s also similar to how Vander held her face to tell her, in a moment of urgency, that she had a good heart, and how she held Powder’s face in scenes when she was younger. What she wants is her family back — a chance to be her sister’s protector again, because she never meant to give it up. Despite knowing that her sister has changed, she wants another chance for the two of them, because she believes that deep down the two of them have stayed the same, despite outwardly saying that they’ve both had to change. Her refusal to call her sister by “Jinx” is a mark of that. She holds onto that thread of family, and of having a good heart, hoping for her sister to be the same.

The tragedy of things is that while Jinx has changed in ways that have made her more independent, ways which are for the most part internal, Vi’s changes have predominantly been surface-level. Internally, there was little change that she could undergo while in prison, and she remains the hopeful protector, still trying to pick things back up from where she was forced to drop them years ago.

Vi and Caitlyn: Belief in a Good Heart

It’s both fortunate and another tragedy in the making for Vi that someone else is there to believe in her good heart — Caitlyn Kiramman. Caitlyn is a fresh viewpoint, someone with no prior experience with Vi, who nevertheless sees the good in her nearly immediately. By doing this, she both confirms Vi’s good heart for viewers as an outsider of sorts, and confirms it in a narrative sense confined within the bounds of the story: she is an enforcer who challenges Vi’s beliefs about and experiences with them, proving that Vi is willing to open up to those who reach out and overcome her biases. In turn, Caitlyn begins to overcome biases about Zaun’s residents by seeing Vi as more than the criminal that she was made out to be.

After Vi’s fight with Sevika, Caitlyn is there to pick her back up and look for help. Though Vi is hallucinating and exhausted, speaking to a younger Powder who isn’t there, it’s Caitlyn who responds to her, accepting an apology without a second thought, and insisting, just like Vander, on Vi’s good heart. Regardless of Vi’s intentions, Caitlyn is open to not just an alliance with Vi, but to her as a person. Unwittingly, she calls back to multiple people that Vi lost a long time ago, and solidifies herself as a character who plays a major role in Vi’s sense of purpose and sense of herself. She draws on Vi’s grief over what she has lost, but also provides some hope in the form of reassurance that she hasn’t lost what makes her good.

[17:59 ep. 6 – Arcane s1 act 2]

Throughout all of Vi’s grief as she comes to terms with how her sister has changed, destroying what little is left of her family, there is someone there to tell her that she has a good heart in the form of Caitlyn. Though grief is present throughout much of Vi’s life, and holds tremendous weight in all of her decisions, she has time and time again had someone tell her that she is still on some semblance of the right path. If this is the course that Vander set her on, then Caitlyn has told her to stay that course.

This is true again when we reach season two, and Caitlyn has apparently spread the word of Vi’s good heart to the rest of the enforcers. It’s because of this insistence — that she has a good heart, that she’s one of the good ones, that she can do something to help people because of all the good inside of her — that Vi is persuaded to join Caitlyn’s strike team as an enforcer herself. In fact, in this scene with Maddie, Vi once again has it confirmed for her that enforcers don’t always match her expectations. She expects to be subjected to a random search, or escorted off the property after a long night of drinking. Instead, Maddie talks about how Caitlyn has spoken highly of her, and how it’s “nice to know there are still good ones left” after some of the corruption — Marcus, previous Piltover sheriff — in the enforcers came to light.

[19:54 ep. 1 – Arcane s2 act 1]

In these stills, we can see Vi’s trepidation, her reluctance to believe this, and possibly also surprise that Caitlyn would say these things about her after she left the night before when offered a badge. There is an aspect of potential manipulation at play from Caitlyn, as we have no evidence that Vi actually enlisted herself (she did just refuse a badge) — Caitlyn’s grief, and subsequent manipulation and how she herself is manipulated, are a major factor in act one of season two, and cannot be ignored. However, for the purposes of focusing on Vi at the moment, that manipulation must be treated more simply, and the nuances of it left for another essay. It can be left at this: Caitlyn is not currently emotionally stable, nor is she the same person that she was in season one, and this, in turn, has an impact on Vi.

Regardless of her hesitations, Vi joins the strike team. She is ready and willing to fight her sister, even if she hasn’t given up all of her hope — she holds on, still, to that idea of having a good heart and using it to protect others.

Rather than focusing on her own good heart, though, Vi begins to hesitate because she questions Caitlyn’s. Implicit rather than explicit is Caitlyn’s own good heart, shown through her trust in Vi and her questioning of Piltover’s authority and decision making in season one. Vi has previously been given good reason to believe that Caitlyn will act with the general good of people, regardless of their status or citizenship, in mind. Caitlyn has been Vi’s new cornerstone of belief, both in Vi’s good, and in there being good in the world to count on. With the advent of season two, and Caitlyn’s own grief, all of that belief in good is shaken.

In the third episode of season two, we see Vi begging Caitlyn to see reason, and to still maintain her own good heart, though not through such straightforward words. What Vi asks of Caitlyn is for her not to change. It’s just unfortunate that this moment of immense grief makes it impossible not to change. Though some theories suggest that Caitlyn’s sigh is because the ensuing kiss is another manipulation, there’s an equal chance that it is because Caitlyn herself knows that what Vi asks is impossible, whether she might want to give that assurance to her or not. She has already changed, and she cannot stop herself from changing, but knowing how to convey that in such a tense moment is difficult under the best of circumstances, and she has been handed, instead, the worst of them.

Vi herself may already know that Caitlyn is changing — she steps between Caitlyn and Heenot in the previous scene, sensing potential violence, and she knows that Caitlyn before her mother’s death would not have been so aggressive. She has reason to ask Caitlyn to talk to her, and to make this request.

[8:15 ep. 3 – Arcane s2 act 1]

Vi’s face is desperate in this still where she asks Caitlyn to make her this promise. The kiss that they share is desperate, on both sides — see Caitlyn’s hesitation, the moment that lingers between them, the way that Vi so quickly drops her guard to reach out. In some ways, Caitlyn’s response, the way that she could well know the inevitability of her own change, stands in stark contrast to Vi’s arc. Vi is so resistant to becoming something other than the protector that even in the midst of tremendous change for Piltover, Zaun, and everyone within them, she is trying to stay the same. She can’t let go of the things that have changed, and this includes her sister, despite her claims otherwise. She is in her role of protector at this very moment, trying desperately to protect the Caitlyn who convinced her that there were still ways to be good in this world, and simultaneously protecting Jinx: the Caitlyn who Vi first met would not have been so ready to kill her without hesitation.

Vi Without a Person to Protect

Vi’s continued belief in her sister becomes evident when we see when Vi won’t let Caitlyn take the shot in episode three of season two. Moments before, Caitlyn shoots Jinx’s gun out of the hand of the child protecting Jinx, so clearly her aim isn’t actually in question. Notably, though, Vi had no power over that shot, and may not have even known that Caitlyn was about to fire: her eyes never left what was directly in front of her, and all she sees is this child’s determination to protect Jinx. There can be more than one influence at play: multiple possible influences here could be Vi’s continued hesitance to kill Jinx, her fears of Caitlyn’s change, and what she sees in Isha, as the series credits name the child.

Vi’s feelings toward Jinx have genuinely changed, even if she still holds onto some hope. Vi specifically says that her sister is gone, and she does seem to believe something like that — but all she has ever known is that she was supposed to protect that family. She was protecting Powder from a very young age, even if she wasn’t alone in the task. Now she’s faced with a child, a child who could be just like she or Powder was when they were young. Vi’s protective focus has first and foremost been on that younger version of her sister, and she hasn’t been able to get to know Jinx as she is now. The desperation of a protective child has to be a moment that shakes her, and makes her question what she’s doing now — if she has abandoned who she is, if she has changed just as Caitlyn is changing. Because of both of those things, she has reason to fear that this could go wrong, and that she’s recreating the things that hurt her all over again.

At the time which Vi stops Caitlyn from taking the next shot, Vi, despite herself, must see something of who she and her sister used to be in the child. She still can’t quite let that past go, and odds are that she’s thinking of more than just Isha when she turns to Caitlyn.

[26:35 ep. 3 – Arcane s2 act 1]

Certain aspects of Vi’s protectiveness have transitioned to focus on Caitlyn, which can be seen in just how badly she wants Caitlyn to retain her own good heart, and, in more visibly evident ways, how her first priority when Sevika triggers the setup that Jinx has been working on is to grab Caitlyn. She may be questioning Caitlyn’s decisions, but she has her back, and has no intention of leaving someone alone again. Just as Caitlyn was there for her when she was struggling through her own form of grief, she clearly intends to be there for Caitlyn as best she can. 

[27:31  ep. 3 – Arcane s2 act 1]

And that’s what makes it all the more heartbreaking when the aftermath of the scene finally hits, when Vi and Caitlyn are alone together again, and all chance of taking out Jinx is gone. In that moment, Caitlyn doesn’t see Vi’s good heart anymore, and Vi has just had her view of Caitlyn’s own goodness at the very least altered, if not shattered.

In that moment, Vi is the one who is left alone. Her form of grief and Caitlyn’s form of grief clash in ways which make their differences too difficult to reconcile; things like class differences, which could be overlooked when it was just the two of them together, become much more complicated when Caitlyn holds so much power and is filled with so much anger. Caitlyn hurting Vi is quite possibly a snap impulse, something she will regret when she has more time to think about it — but it also directly parallels, for Vi and for viewers, how Vi hurt her sister and left her behind. And because she was the one to stop Caitlyn from taking the shot, given the way that Vi has responded to events like this before, it seems plausible that there is some part of her which will believe it to be her own fault.

In the intro of the new season, Vi smudges over the tattoo on her cheek, the tattoo which, in a more literal sense, is a part of identifying her — when Maddie finds her in episode one of season two, and Vi asks how she knew who she was, Maddie says it’s “written on [her] face.” The combination of the intro, the focus on Vi’s good heart and how she is identified, and the scene in episode three where Vi is left entirely alone, suggests that Vi’s identity is being changed and blurred, whether she likes it or not. Her ability to protect has been compromised by the fact that in her desperation, she left herself unguarded, thinking that she was safe with the people she had chosen to let in. She has clung to her identity this whole time, finding it at the center of all her relationships. Left alone, she has effectively been robbed of all the impact of the good heart that so many people have insisted is her best trait, and left with those physical capabilities that she uses as a form of protection, which explains why she might turn to the pit fighter arc depicted in trailers for season two.  Now that she is on her own, she will need to find something new, or a way to adapt, but she sets out by doing the only thing she still knows: fighting her way through.

Vi cannot protect everyone, and she has just taken a literal and metaphorical blow from the one person she was still vulnerable with. Throughout the series, there has been an emphasis on her good heart and the way in which she protects people, which, while physically effective, often causes further strife down the line. To the people Vi meets, her good heart is considered valuable, and yet it has only brought her pain. Her identity has been torn away from her in a way that collapses her entire existence, because the one stable thing left to her was her connection with Caitlyn, however new it might be. As of the end of act one of season two, we see Vi cut loose and adrift, and we can only hope that we will see her overcome grief again, and perhaps finally learn to accept her own change in a changing world.

[cotharach]

#COTHARACH: an affiliated flayn rp blog, loved and cherished by mik (20, they/them, gmt +8). a little fish swimming through the tides of a new world. rules and portrayal notes may be found under the cut!

RULES

ON AFFILIATION: this blog is affiliated with the officers academy. as such, personal blogs and rp blogs not affiliated with toa will be softblocked or blocked.

ON SHIPPING: i won't prioritize it but i am open to shipping with chemistry and ooc familiarity. my other caveats are that i am NOT open to shipping with non-students or non-minors and that i would like for things to be plotted out.

ON FORMATTING: i use small text with icons in my writing. if you have any issues with readability or would like me to change my format, please let me know! as for my personal preference: i would prefer it if my partners could use small text in their replies so i can read it more easily <3

ON OOC CONTACT: as tumblr's IMs have been acting up recently (for me at least) i prefer discord dms. my username is emblian! i am part of toa's discord server so you may also ping me there. i will let you all know now that, while i have grown more comfortable speaking with others ooc, i am still prone to bouts of anxiety and may pull back at any given moment. please don't take this personally! i may just need some space and time to get myself together.

ON REPLIES: my schedule has gotten considerably less free since i'm starting my semester so expect me to take anywhere from a week to a month to reply. i'll do my best to avoid having my partners wait for too long, of course, but i just want to be clear just in case you think i might be ghosting you or forgetting our thread. though that's not out of the question—i'm also a pretty forgetful person, so feel free to ping me if you feel that may be the case!

ON TRIGGER WARNINGS: i will use general trigger warnings for things such as gore, extreme violence, suicide, and other topics that i deem sensitive enough to warrant it. i will be using "tw // (word)" as a tag. if you have any triggers you'd like me to tag, please feel free to let me know through a dm. i also tag spoilers under "spoilers" but... for a series this old, i don't know what else there is to spoil JDFNLKDSJFG

ON OTHER FIRE EMBLEM GAMES: i am most familiar with three houses, thracia, heroes, and awakening but have a general grasp on most of the other games. it can only take me so far, though. for games/characters i'm not too familiar with, i hope you don't mind if i ask questions!

PORTRAYAL NOTES ( NOT SPOILER FREE) (IT'S BEEN FIVE YEARS)

it has been 3 years since flayn was last here, so i understand that it may be confusing to have her suddenly drop in with all of the progress she's made. the explanation i have (detailed more in this post) is that she has been on a holy mission around fodlan this whole time.

my interpretation is based mainly on her in academy phase, once you've recruited her. so you can assume she has already been kidnapped and rescued and all that jazz.

three hopes revealed to us that flayn is prone to overexertion due to her actions in the war. this was something missing from my old interpretation that i'll be integrating into things i see fit.

people who know seteth may also be familiar with flayn; students of the blue lion house should also be familiar with her (and she will be similarly familiar with them) so you're free to skip the pleasantries and go straight to action. for ease of interaction, i assume that our muses have been introduced to one another in mission threads or settings that are official school business (i.e. an assignment), but do let me know if you prefer otherwise.

flayn is a nabatean, and while fellow dragonkin (or even particularly nosy humanfolk) may sense or suspect something up with her identity, it's a fact that won't be explicitly known by people who aren't seteth or rhea. so even if you and i know who she really is, your muse won't. having her reveal this to other people is not out of the question, but will take a long time and lots of trust.

similarly, her identity as seteth's daughter should be secret to everyone except for her, seteth, rhea, and other nabateans. so your muse wouldn't know the true nature of her familial relationship with seteth unless she says so (but this is something i feel she has less reason to reveal, as it implicates seteth too)

[cyberdragoninfinity]

if youre doing the ask game

🔥

unpopular opinion for seto motherfucking kaiba? mayhaps? blease?

ok so. i wrote. like four fucking paragraphs answering this, talking about how i feel about kaiba, and then. when i went. to fucking add tags. tumblr fucked up and deleted my whole post <333 super cool website very fun to use <33333

anyway im not rewriting all of that so here's the tl;dr: i like kaiba, he's iconic for a reason, but my 🔥🔥🔥est kaiba take is just that honestly i dont think he's nearly as deep a character as people want him to be, and that's not a bad thing. He fulfills the role he has in DM's narrative fantastically well, and he has his veins of things that could be interesting to discuss, but after 25 years it feels like it's just nonstop hitting bedrock when it comes to kaiba 'analysis.' I feel like i see the same 3-4 kaiba meta posts every other week (and i do sometimes wish that level of love and dedication to character analysis got extended to. any other yugioh character. i feel similarly about atem too tbh dfghd)

like with kaiba, it feels like a massive chunk of his implied depth is things fans have willed into existence through the sheer power of I Want it To Be That Deep. and i dont even think there's anything wrong with that, it just doesn't interest me very much. i like my kaiba discussion where the elephant of "this character is in many ways defined by stagnant growth and if this is left unchecked it's going to get really fucking bad" is Very in the room. kaiba is at his best to me when he's doing digital duel links necromancy, when his interpersonal relationships beyond mokuba are under the microscope and revealed to be, uh, hanging by a thread or two!

also, just, with not being terribly interested in it all, at this point now five yugiohs in and fully out in the spinoff reeds, i gotta say, every other yugioh rival is a more engaging character to me on a narrative and symbolic level than i have ever personally found kaiba. i honestly think a lot of them are also, by their series' end, far kinder people than seto kaiba is. 🤷‍♀️ maybe in another world another life kaiba could have dueled a robotic embodiment of all his negative traits and been humbled to some degree by that. what a world to think of