#but I like LIVE for character and plot analysis

[storytellingbadger]

I’m sorry, but you’re just objectively wrong. Liquorice is rank 🤣 /j intrigued about the onion sandwiches though…

Jokes aside, I couldn’t have put it better myself. There’s nothing wrong with being passionate about a show/character etc, and if you want to write that character analysis go for your life! But not to the point you’re in distress. That’s not good for you. Accept and own that we’re all apologists to some degree about our favourites, live and let live, have fun and don’t feed the trolls. Trolls cannot be reasoned with.

Like Doc says, life is short. Like what you like. And if canon really upsets you, or you do/don’t like a ship, or felt a plot thread went unresolved or whatever and it’s badly affecting you/making you unhappy - step back from watching for your own peace of mind. Or write or draw an AU. That’s what fanwork is for. I promise it’s great fun.

I see people around here defending Nexus-

And I just want to say. You don’t have to do that?

If you feel like writing a character analysis, just go ahead? It’s your blog. But there’s no reason to tie yourself in knots writing a whole essay. People who don’t agree with you aren’t gonna listen, or they’ll try to argue with you. (And waste your time or make you mad.) It’s okay to just like things?

Personally I love several things most people hate.

Pineapple on pizza, black olives, blue cheese, black licorice, beets, onion sandwiches, Crocs, Fanny packs.

All I’m saying is; life is short. Don’t get stressed if you can avoid it. If someone annoys you; block them and don’t give it a second thought.

The internet has always had trolls. Remember not to feed them.

And if you’re one of the people doing the bullying? All I have to say is that; someday you’ll look back on this behavior and be ashamed.

[lord-squiggletits]

I know there are as many religious good guys as there are religious bad guys in IDW, but I think I pinned down the reason why it feels like the most prominent religious figures are all bad guys and it's pretty much due to the worldbuilding.

Maybe my memory of the comics is just really bad, but the religious worldbuilding in IDW is....kind of trash honestly. I'm not sure there's a single religion or religious custom that doesn't exist solely to further the plot along. Like, it's one thing for the Camiens to worship the Primes and that causes a lot of stuff in exRID/OP, but what does that worship actually look like? What are their holidays, customs, religious texts? What about "spectralism" which basically the only thing we know about is the Festival of the Lost Light and some hippie color coding and aura shit? Like sure, there are characters who are religious and their beliefs come into play sometimes, but it honestly feels (especially in MTMTE) more like their religiousness only exists when it's relevant to the plot and it's just kinda. Disappointing eh. Lacking in worldbuilding. Plus the more religious a character is the more it's written as their entire personality and the driving force making them evil so it just kinda made me cringe to read honestly.

[paint-tastes-ok]

.

[tahbhie]

The Act of Writing Psychotic Characters 

Edited

Part 1: Attention vs Intention

It's been a while since I received this request, and I ensured I took my time with the thoughts, evaluation, and analysis. This topic will be covered in three parts, so here's the first.

Before we proceed, please note that I am not a psychiatrist, psychologist, or any professional in that field. This is just an insight into how this kind of concept can fit into your novels.

Okay, let's begin.

The Attention vs Intention part of this topic will discuss two ways of portraying these type of characters in scenes. 

First, you need to understand that psychopathic characters aren't psychos based solely on their speeches or actions. If that's all you have in mind before approaching a story, you might leave a huge gap in the execution.

Rather, it's how they feel—the desire to satisfy their current emotions.

They have drives and motives, but most especially beliefs which, in most cases, are hardly understandable by other people. It's wrong and unacceptable by society, but to them, they wouldn't do it any differently.

That's why most psychopathic characters have no remorse. You simply can't apologize or feel sorry if you don't 'believe' that you're in the wrong.

➜ Attention Psychopath

Psychopathic characters whose main purpose in a story is limited to presence (i.e., showing up in scenes and visibly serving the role of a psychopath) are attention psychopaths. You don't flesh out their backstory or why they are who they are.

Their drives and motives aren't talked about enough to the point of justification. Readers hardly care about them, but the action they bring to the scene creates a rich narrative with the purpose of psychopathy.

In summary, their role is minor. We see such cases in movies like The Babysitter.

Let's agree that none of the cult characters in that movie are exactly sane, as their main aim is to end their victims’ lives in the sickest ways possible. However, there's a certain character, Max, who simply enjoys the idea of "killing and seeing people bleed."

That has exceeded the central idea of being a cultist who gets involved in blood sacrifice to achieve their 'dream life' like the rest of the characters. It's now something more and different.

Something that has to do with homicidal ideation.

Max worked in a diner where he dealt with people that annoyed him so greatly that he wanted to kill them. So he got the opportunity to join a cult and do just that.

It was plain clear this guy had something else going on for him, but throughout the movie, his character had no special attention or even a peek into his thoughts. Although, it still worried the audience. Job done.

➜ Intention Psychopath

When a story is centered around a character's mental state, their motives, drives, beliefs, actions, and the story actually unfolds by going deeper into this concept, you have intention psychopathy.

If not entirely, at least mostly, it defines the entire plot surrounding that character. People get to understand why they are who they are, their mode of action, what drives them, and even a peek into how they perceive the world around them.

Such scenarios are seen in movies like The Joker and Pyramid game (Korea). The audience gets a glimpse into their overall life and understands at least to an extent why they are the way they are.

Their beliefs get twisted for certain reasons, and there was just no stopping them. Here the characters were more than a presence; they were a central core.

In the movie Joker, we watched Arthur’s impoverished life unfold, with every event and incident worsening his condition further.

Baek Ha-rin in Pyramid Game literally created an entire game system to watch a student, who happened to be her old friend, suffer both physically and mentally. She went to great lengths to carry out this nefarious act under the guise of the game. Although this movie encompassed more than just this storyline, it was hard to ignore the unhealthy drive and actions of the young lady with an innocent face.

Before incorporating a psychopathic character in your novel, determine their form of portrayal and appearance in the overall story. Are they going to serve as an attention psychopath or an intention psychopath?

Inspired by @sothera

Stay tuned for the next part!

۝ Before you go! ۝

My Characters and I is an extensive one-on-one coaching session designed to create characters that leap off the pages and become best friends with your readers.

What's a great story without remarkable characters? Spots are filling up fast, so grab yours now and get ahead of millions of writers out there.

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[hexhomos]

little random but i really appreciate your dissections and analysis of Mel mainly bc the fandom either adore her and won't admit she is a flawed character and get over defensive when you call her out, or straight up hate her and make her out to be completely evil.

Mel is written as morally grey for a reason and when ppl try to act like she was morally correct in everything she did, it goes against the whole plot. yes, she regrets most of her actions by the end of the series and is left to deal with her family's leagacy and the weight of her actions, but that doesn't undo anything she did. and her eventually starting to care about Jayce doesn't just cancel out that she manipulated him (you'd think this would be obvious)

what bothers me the most i think is meljay shippers who say Jayce mistreated her and that Mel only ever helped and care about him and aided him in rising to power politically, and how she was so understanding of Jayce's and Viktor's friendship. yes, encouraging methods of political corruption in order to gain more power is so caring and kind of her! ❤️

Mel might've told Jayce to go spend time with Viktor after finding out he was ill, but the one time in the show she interacted with Viktor was... prejudiced to say the least. she never directly spoke to or answered Viktor, and the expression on her face any time she looked over at Viktor was so clearly full of dislike. it shocks me ppl still believe Mel and Viktor could get along and respect one another, especially romantically. no way.

anyways, sorry for the rant. just tired of how many bad takes there are in this fandom and very fond of your account lol

you are right and you SHOULD say it re: that oft repeated argument about her "only wanting what's best for him" bothers me so much. Its just... weirdly patronizing and spousing pro-piltover nationalism every time i see it being brought up. "She's doing what anyone would do/what is best for the city!" IDK MAN I AM NOT ROCKING WITH THAT. Im not an ubercapitalist. I don't think any of that was the good option actually lol. Probably I hate piltover too much to humor these arguments but from day 1 we are shown this is a city of immense class inequality in which the elite few holds all the power and all the profit gains at the cost of everyone else's submission and humanity. (Not for nothing: these are also the classic old guard Noxian tenets of supremacy. That's how they do colonization.)

The interactions Mel has with Jayce for majority of the series, before she watches that bomb come in and has her rapid onset change of heart, are her talking about how investors want his work and how she can use his discovery to advance this city (which is already built on exploitation!) or instigating his rise to power as a new ringleader for the council's rigged mercantile operations, and this is just not good or heroic in any way to me. This isn't love either, it's industrial convenience. The fact that she's conflicted by the end doesn't cancel these actions out! Jayce realizes that he's been used in ways he strongly disagrees with and any the affection in that dynamic vanishes instantly. The time he spends in isolation replaying his mistakes in that cave has an emphasis on mel/heimerdinger's voice on the council too, all of his regrets with blindly following someone else's vision or disappointing an idol he held in high regards.

And Jayce DOES care about the state of the cities, or he did before the writers forgot: He's the one who pleads for Zaun's independence at the end of season 1! He's the one who spent all his life trying to work towards improving the lives of common people, giving them the miracles they've been denied!

Viktor is a fucking nobody. He is extremely worthless in the eyes of the piltovan upper crust, only kept around on the merits working with Jayce have afforded him; and they still don't care. They're probably hoping he dies quicker. We *SEE* him being singled out and alienated during that weapons discussion where Mel is pleading for Jayce to think about "protecting his people" (only piltovans, never, ever zaunites- protecting piltovans against the zaunite menace.) and Viktor is set off at that whole exchange because it doesn't matter how loud he screams, these people can just tune him off and pretend he doesn't exist anyway. It's what they're used to doing. It drives me insane!!!!! His indignation is extremely under-explored and very inline with his act1 speech of feeling like an undesirable presence in piltover and having to push through with the grit of his teeth. It's open faced classism and I still see people pretending it didn't happen. Fandom makes all of these characters FAR less interesting by defanging them. The heart is in the friction and in the ugliness of them fucking up because they have very, very different conceptions of "utopia" - and some of those utopias require the death of the other characters present.

A lot of the Arcane character arcs have to do with realizing the above, and weighing if the sacrifice is worth the risk. Sometimes it turns out their utopias were shit.

[metalomagnetic]

hi metalo! i saw you recently liked a post (i am a creep) about dumbledore being a villain not being a good analysis. years ago i was firmly in the dumblevillain camp, and while I haven’t moved out entirely (I somewhat see him as morally grey? ish?), i am SO interested in your take on dumbledore

can you please just provide a blurble of your opinion? all the love <3

Dumbledore is a good-guy archetype. He is God, to Harry's Jesus and Voldemort's Satan. He is Gandalf to Frodo, Mufasa to Simba and so on.

Dumbledore isn't morally grey; he holds no convictions that are grey in nature. Snape is a wonderful example of a morally grey character, not Dumbledore.

He is, however, a complex character, nuanced, a human being with faults. He makes mistakes, like all other characters in the books, and like all human beings in the world. He is not perfect, but he is good. The Ultimate Good.

Dumbledore is a man that lives in service of the Wizarding World and sacrifices his love, his desires, his ambition and ultimately his life for the good of others.

Dumbledore never forgives himself for those brief 2 months of summer he had with Gellert, and literally spends his entire life doing better, always doing what is right, choosing, over and over and over again, to be kind.

He saves the world, twice, by making sure Grindelwald and Voldemort would never rule over innocents. He not only ensures Voldemort will lose the war, but he makes damn sure to arm Harry with everything he needs to survive that encounter.

Dumbledore always choses love, compassion, tolerance, forgiveness. He always does what is right.

Like he himself will tell you, he made some mistakes (and he is the first to recognise those mistakes, and hold himself accountable for them) but never out of malice or for self interest. Even if he is a genius, he is not omnipresent nor omnipotent, so sometimes he errs on account of that.

He is so aware of his power, and his own human fragility and potential for corruption, that he chooses to remove himself from power, from people, locked away in a school, keeping himself contained and in check.

We also have to account for JK's less than stellar plots, and how HP books are meant for children. But, narratively, Dumbledore represents goodness. He is the hero's mentor, teacher, paternal figure, protector.

When he dies, the UK magical world is lost to darkness. Without him, the Ministry falls, Hogwarts falls, and Voldemort gains power over UK. However, Albus leaves Harry behind, arms him with knowledge (about Horcruxes and how to destroy them) and with powerful magic (the deathly hallows), leaves Harry with people that will look after him (Snape).

Albus did not sacrifice Harry- on the contrary. He loved Harry, was impressed and humbled by the goodness and determination in Harry, and he fought his hardest to keep this kid alive. Without Dumbledore, Harry would have died- not just in the final battle, but many times over. Harry wouldn't have made it past toddlerhood without this man.

To quote Harry himself:

“He accused me of being ‘Dumbledore’s man through and through.’”

“How very rude of him.”

“I told him I was.”

Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. Behind Harry, Fawkes the phoenix let out a low, soft, musical cry. To Harry’s intense embarrassment, he suddenly realized that Dumbledore’s bright blue eyes looked rather watery.

How the fandom turned this man into a villain, I will never understand.

Of course, you can have a fun AU where Albus is actually evil, or morally grey. I love those kind of stories. This is strictly speaking of canon Albus, and not of wonderfully creative fics that can depict all matter of divergences where Albus can end up however deliciously evil the authors desires him to be.

(I say all this as the Biggest Voldemort's simp in the universe; but I simp for a Voldemort that we create through head-canons and collective fandom, not a Voldemort that exists in the canonical text. I simp for Voldemort's potential that was never realised in the books. Dumbledore, however, is fully developed in the books, and he is a wonderful dude.)

[terriblyrenderedenigma]

On Transformers and Human soulmate tropes...

(i do personally attack starscream at the end, i'm sorry starscream lovers, i love him too, but he's just a sad, devious little guy.)

Just a little thought here, so, I love soulmate tropes. Depending on the plot, they can be really fun and take so many interesting paths as a medium used within storytelling, whether romantic or platonic.

But what i want to talk about specifically is Transformer x Human soulmate tropes. Like, you have this super sweet side to it where the bot can be like 'I have waited my entire life to find you, finally, I can hold you in my arms and we never have to part again'. Depending on the character/story/type of SM (soulmate, shortening it because I'm not gonna keep writing it out) trope of course.

Can I just say how...instrumentally fucked this is though? So you have this race of robots who live for, what is essentially millennia out in the wild unless they catch the smoke. Their soulmate ends up being this little creature that lives for 80, maybe 100 years tops before dying. -Unless we're going for some kind of mind switch body type thing, but we all know how that went with spike in g1.

Our beloved robo blorbos will eventually have to cope with the fact that their soulmate, the person or creature they're MEANT to be with via laws of the universe, will die a LOT sooner than they will.

This especially hits hard with the decepticons who, depending on continuity -- hate humanity already. Bots who've gone through so much, losing their home, friends, and their dignities; have to learn to put up with and accept this creature as their fated mate/spouse/conjux endura, whatever you want to call it- SOULMATE.

Then the decepticons just have to deal with the fact that they're going to lose this person too, just like they've already lost everything else and oh GOD. Maybe they choose to forget about them and move on, stay alone and mourn what could have been if the universe hadn't had such a fucked sense of humor. Maybe they choose to accept it, but never let their SM too close because they know they'll just be hurt so much more hurt when the inevitable comes.

Then you have to think about decepticons having to possibly protect their SM from other cons! From being taken and 'saved' by the autobots.

Imagine some bots or cons just flying off the handle, going crazy just to try and keep their human alive in any way they possibly can, afraid of running out of time.

(Starscream lovers forgive me for the angst)

And Starscream especially, Maybe he'd try. He'd have a great time, take a chance, and give it a go. But what if he's actually terrified? Maybe he'd also self sabotage a little, knowing the relationship will never last too long anyways; not in the short blink of time it would be next to his life. Maybe, he doesn't actually know what to do with himself in a positive relationship after being, i dunno, consistently dogged on by megatron and he freezes.

There's something actually good for him, and since he isn't sure how to receive or accept that fact, he's gone. And maybe he'll come back, but the cycle could repeat.

(Im sorry, unless you put a tracker on him and call his ass and really give him some therapy. get him some god damn therapy.)

But yeah. All around, the angst potential is immense for this stuff and it makes me sad to think about so I thought i would share it instead of just write about it in an actual fic because my character analysis and ability to comprehend my own thoughts is so shit.

Okay, CIAOOOOOO~

[woodbrook-wanderer]

Bits + Bits: A meta discussion on Sam's gender

Hello! This post by @spyjam24 has been itching me for quite a while, and while I could just include this in a post about Sam and in general the queercoding of the BTTWNS world, this seems important enough to talk about on its own. Sam being a woman while presenting masculinely is another point of discussion in my future Nigel analysis.

BEAR HEIRARCHIES:

Being solitary creatures, bears have a simplistic social structure where mature dominant males are at the top, and sub-adults and cubs remain at the bottom. Male bears assert dominance by marking their area with their scent and challenge other males to gain right to food sources or an area. Larger bears roar to scare away younger bears who aren't as strong. While bears are not territorial and learn to co-exist with each other in safe distances, even congregating in places with abundant food supply (streams, coasts, etc.), the male dominance ensures that all the given needs (food, water, shelter, and mates) are streamlined towards them. Females do not have much say in the matter. Although they are tolerant and can live within the territories of dominant males, refusing advances for mating results in injury or even death.

Female bears are most associated with rearing young and defending their cubs when male bears threaten to kill their children in order to get the mother to mate with him. Females do not go out of their way to kill or challenge other females.

Single females and subadults are almost always submissive to mature males but have a loose hierarchy within their own group.

RE-IMAGINING BTTWNS WITH A MALE PROTAGONIST:

Knowing this, how would BTTWNS play out if Sam was a man? The most prominent selling point fans and comic news outlets use to drive eyes towards the comic is its similarities to the TV show Dexter. Similar logline, similar plot, close enough characters. I have not watched the show in its entirety yet but with the knowledge I've gotten through friends and social media osmosis, it's about a mild-tempered investigator who's a serial killer by night. I have heard from a friend that one of the main storylines in the series is a string of murders happens and it is done to impress the titular character.

Sound familiar?

However, coming from a fan of Beneath The Trees and did not read under the advertising of it being "Dexter but Richard Scarry!", I believe it largely undersells and underestimates the message and themes. It also seems to disregard the importance of Samantha being a woman but also being a butch. Her gender presentation is extremely important as to how and why she kills in the first place.

But let's play this hypothetically. Sam is a man. He owns a hardware shop and is well liked in his community. He's the only bear in town. He's secretly a serial killer and goes out to the city to pick and choose his victim. Sure, it sounds similar enough, but why would he still kill in the first place when he knows he's at the top of the food chain or the social hierarchy in Woodbrook in the lenses of the anthropomorphic animal world? More importantly, if he was a man, why would anyone be brave enough to challenge him by becoming the local serial killer?

Nigel challenges Sam because she is a woman.

Caging The Idea:

Of course Beneath The Trees could work alone if Sam was a man but that would take away a lot of the gravity in the implied horror of the series.

First and foremost, Nigel is a stalker. He follows Sam around and obsessively takes photos of her to collect. God knows what he's doing with those photos, but his obsession with her extends beyond the images and into imitation. Aside from becoming a serial killer himself, he tries dressing and acting similarly in Issue 4 where he confesses to the crime in an attempt to become her equal.

But that's the thing though. He doesn't view her as an equal. He's excited at the idea of her masculinity and imitates what he can learn from the violence that comes with it. She isn't as competent because she is a woman and he needs to assert himself under the guise of assisting her or "doing it together".

He throws a fit when he is rejected, similarly to how certain men feel entitled to a woman or a partner and violently attacks her (although in this case indirectly by framing Charlie's murder on her and creeping into her subconscious in the nightmare).

He fights for dominance he knows she can't naturally have because that's how nature is, correct? Females will always be submissive to males and rejection results in injury or even death.

Now imagine all of this if Sam was a man. It does not feel twice as horrifying as it actually is in its plainest form.

Nigel is a predator as we know it in the modern sociological context, and he confidently does this by exerting the violence that comes with masculinity which he ironically learnt from a woman.

WHY DO YOU KILL?:

It's simple. Nigel kills to assert his dominance.

Sam kills to emotionally regulate, but also kills to assert dominance.

Sam is seen to revere wild bears as she sees herself as a bear (she is, but moreso in the sense she is not "human" or social like the other animal folk in Woodbrook) and chooses to be one with what she loves. Her fascination and kinship with the strength and the power they hold in nature is why she chooses to present, dress, and act butch. However, we do see in gaps and moments that she is aware of how powerless she actually is if she was a bear and if she were to be a person. There's the pressure to be good. There's the social pressure that comes with being a woman. There's the expectations of her gender and the exploitation men will have over her in either situation.

And so she kills. She has no young to defend. She's not interested in love, or raising a family or being social so she'll act like a male bear because that is the closest she'll ever get to having power over anyone.

And that power will be challenged in the Spring.

Yes. It's important that Sam is a woman. Don't undersell BTTWNS as a Dexter spinoff.

[animatewarriorcats]

Redwillow! First listed in the eclipse allegiances with Whitewater as his mentor. He has some appearances in the first few omen of the stars books, but mostly is a generic background character. By Night Whispers however he is in my opinion characterized as a seasoned warrior, even though he is very new to the books. He is put in charge of leading a boarder patrol, and is seen after the battle of the border covered in wounds. Later in the book however he is part of the group that plays on the frozen lake, skidding across the surface on his belly. I love this segment because he is mentioned alongside senior warriors Crowfrost and Ratscar who yowl in amusement at his antics.

There is some of what I'm going to call fan interpretation of Redwillow that he is a loner in Shadowclan, but in the books his moderate regard by his own leader and senior warriors suggests to me instead that he was well liked, and integrated into the clan, even though it's never established who his kin is. That's why to me he becomes an example later on of a cat who's ambition is used to radicalize him to the Dark Forest. He doesn't start out a traitor to Shadowclan, on the contrary Redwillow spends his time in the dark forest close to his living clanmates. It isn't until the Forgotten Warrior that Ivypool points out Redwillow specifically multiple times when she's looking for cats that may have loyalties outside their clans. He never says anything to that point, rather his body language and exchanged glances are what makes her think so. Within the Last hope he makes several remarks in the Dark Forest about becoming the best warrior he can be, and that training in the Dark Forest makes training with Shadowclan feel like working with kittypets. Ivypool confronts him in a conversation with Hollowflight asking if he would let his weaker Clanmates die and he says "O-of course not" just that they had a lot to learn from the Dark Forest Warriors. Even with that I remember finding his final moments in the Last Hope a departure from his character, where he declares the Dark Forest his new clan, and that Blackstar's time is over.

Idk I just wanted more out of the radicalization of the clan cats while it was happening. I guess as someone who grew up with the internet I'm not a stranger to what anarchy and rebellion look like behind closed doors and personally felt that the concept of being isolated in a toxic in group extremely interesting, I found the the non-committal conversations of the dark forest trainees to be much more innocent than the showy posturing of competitive vitriol I've known such spaces to inspire. The fact that Redwillow and Breezepelt at the end of the battle were the only two warriors we know by name that sided with the Dark Forest to the end seems like such an underestimate to me. All I'm saying is that while I do love Redwillow for being an example of this, Clan cat rebellion to the Dark Forest could have been much more catastrophic than it was, and especially for the amount of plot and hype that it was given in universe. Add to all that the possible reading of Redwillow as a transmasc character that is radicalized into toxic masculinity and I want it to be known that i do love this character, but that most of that love comes from meta analysis and not from the text itself. He shouldn't have died twice in the Broken Code because truthfully he just didn't deserve it.

[peggyao3]

The Art of Empathy

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: After the fall of House Harkonnen, an innocent poison flower is planted in their evil heart to teach them the art of empathy.

TAGS: 18+, smut, she/her AFAB FMC, mixed POVs, Feyd-Rautha feels things, Angst, Fluff, Hurt and Comfort, Political Schemes, Morally Grey Everything, Giedi Prime Realness, Knife Play, Minor Character Death, Mentions of Violence, Slice of Life, Character Analysis, Feyd being Feyd, Vaginal Sex, Squirting, Porn with Plot, Creampie, Soft Feyd by the end of it, Can he be redeemed?!

WORD COUNT: 6.3k

A/N: I posted this one on ao3 ages ago but not on tumblr. I hope you enjoy <3

Reposted from Ao3 💕| Masterlist

Divider by @/saradika-graphics

After the fall of House Harkonnen comes the slow decay. A whole folk is left floundering and looks up to their new leader for guidance, Baron Feyd-Rautha, to whom the title is a slight. There is no use for the Baron of a powerless House. The Atreides should have annihilated them all. Instead they are humiliating them and calling it mercy. 

And so, House Harkonnen rots, aimless and torpid. Violence festers in the streets, the military disassembles itself, the House’s spice stocks have been confiscated. And their new leader? He sits and stews in the family keep where Harkonnen and Atreides guards alternate and the latter keep a sharp eye on everything Feyd-Rautha does.

He is a man doomed who refuses to lead a House of shame.

All that remains is to distract himself and search for culprits. His uncle, yes, but his uncle is already dead. The Emperor, the Fremen, the Atreides. They’re all ripe for the killing but House Harkonnen can’t even provide for their own spice addicts.

And then one day, a new resident moves into the palace.

She is a gentle poison flower, planted by the Bene Gesserit. They had thought her a weak witch at first, with no poise and little use. She had only barely passed the Gom Jabbar test, crying and screaming like an animal, but she hadn’t pulled her hand out of the box, so they couldn’t dispose of her. Only much later did the sisters realize what a useful asset she could be. 

De-Harkonnification is the word whispered off the record. A new era of breeding will commence, for the better of the universe. The experiment will start with their leader. It has to.

The suddenly useful Bene Gesserit woman has been chosen to teach Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen the delicate art of empathy.

To force him into bland lessons will bear no fruit. The new baron needs to think he’s discovered wisdom all by himself, only then will his skin peel away and make room for a fresh layer. The slow blade of curiosity will penetrate the shield and kill a Harkonnen, and let him be reborn as something new.

This new woman, she is so soft and… mundane. 

With great irritation Feyd-Rautha takes notice of her moving into his palace where she occupies a medium-sized chamber that has been painted in all the warm colors that aren’t native to Giedi Prime.

“I know you’re a witch,” he tells her the first day, standing in her doorway like a beaten bull who is still ready to charge. “I have no business with witches.”

“I won’t force you,” she replies with a short smile which renders the new Baron momentarily speechless.

The next day, he returns with more anger and piercing eyes that won’t know peace until he finds the answers he seeks. “What is your purpose in my palace?”

“I am to live here,” she announces while sticking her finger into the soil of a gross looking potted plant with wide, green leaves to test how moist it is. Frustratingly, Feyd is unable to detect any deceit in her voice, even though she is a Bene Gesserit, so there must be deceit. He won’t be manipulated.

Throughout the weeks, Feyd realizes everything she does is boring. So boring that he finds himself returning every day and watching with blatant interest, wondering how anyone can live like that.

In her free time, this woman reads literature that has no educational or strategic value. She also says she enjoys naps and she considers having to do nothing at all a rare blessing that not many are free to relish in a world that is battered by politics and war. She reminds Feyd of a lazy housecat who cripples her own potential.

Her survival instincts are so meek, sometimes she won’t even wake up when he enters her room. Feyd is tempted to do a number of things to her sleeping body, but in the end he always just stands there, next to her bed, waiting for her to finally wake up and take note of the danger. With a blade at her throat he tries to teach her to be more attentive, relishing the naked fear in her eyes when she startles from her sleep and finds pain against her neck.

In those moments, she is such a fun toy and Feyd wants to thank whoever is responsible for sending him such a pitiful witch.

Another thing she likes is daydreaming, she says, and when asked to tell him what about, she just smiles mysteriously and shakes her head no, followed by soft laughter. Feyd assumes those daydreams must be about violence, because no human mind goes without violence. And so he smiles too, thinking to himself that he's learned a dirty secret of hers that takes away from her perceived purity.

There is at least one point on which they seem to agree, and that is their interest in good food and drink, though their ideas of ‘good’ differ.

“Do those… pastries you’ve got there strengthen your body?” Feyd peers at her over the table, licking bloody meat residue off his pale fingers.

“Hmmm. I don’t think so, but they’re very tasty.” And that again is something so mundane, Feyd can't wrap his head around it. “Would you like to try one?”

He hesitates, regarding the icing and powdered sugar on the tiny cake. “No. There’s no point in eating it then.”

“Aw.” The woman looks briefly disappointed but then resumes eating.

“Don’t you want your body to be strong and capable of attack and defense?!”

“I suppose that would be nice…” Feyd has noticed a while ago that she seems to have trouble looking him in the eyes and sometimes he thinks he has been deceived and this woman is no Bene Gesserit at all, but a stray that has been deposited in his palace because the sisterhood wanted to get rid of her.

“If I attacked you right now, what would you do?” Feyd stands up and grips her plate, pulling it away so she is left with only the cutlery in hands, looking a little helpless.

“I would scream for help.”

“And if no one came?” The idea amuses Feyd-Rautha and the corners of his full lips twist into an alluring smirk. The temptation makes his skin warm and his core tight.

“I could try to hurt you with this knife and fork,” she proposes and presents her weapons of choice, targeting Feyds clavicles with her mellow eyes.

“Wouldn’t you like to try it?” He purrs and slinks closer, rubbing his hand up her arm and shoulder, cupping her throat. He really could do anything to her and she’d have no choice, no matter which weapons are in her meager hands. His cock strains against the dark trousers he wears and she either ignores it or doesn’t notice in her endless languor.

“No, of course not!” She yelps with the high-pitched tone of an animal stupid enough to walk into a blatant trap.

“You bore me to death, woman! I wish you weren’t here.” Feyd rumbles and releases her throat with a punishing squeeze that knocks her backwards, then he sweeps her plate off the table so the pastries bounce across the carpet, leaving a trail of crumbs.

“Then don’t come and see me!”

His loins are left throbbing and he feels so strangely dissatisfied when he leaves that day and cannot help but picture the woman crawling over the carpeted floor, picking up the mess he’s made, and for some reason this image makes him unhappy.

In his churning mind, Feyd keeps wondering why she was brought to him and after enough twisting and turning, he commences an era of harshness in which he thinks she was given to him for his amusement, to be molded by him. The ways to torment her are as manifold as they are fun. Something as simple as twiddling with his knife can draw the warmth out of her cheeks and make her pull her feet under her body, as if fearing Feyd-Rautha might cut her toes off otherwise. 

Now, if only he could make her see how enjoyable pain is. The cuts and nicks on her body tell stories of his attempts, as do those on his, when he guided her unwilling hand to carve lines and half moons into his pale flesh.

The assortment of her scars stop around the middle of her thighs, even though he could easily lift her dress higher and leave his marks of his ownership wherever he wants. There are desires left unspoken and he revels in her fear, because she knows it will happen, just not when.

But the worst thing undoubtedly he's ever done to her, is when he brings her to the former preparation chamber behind the deserted colosseum that was once his gladiatorial arena, when House Harkonnen still had pride and honor. 

In the dark he shows her his assortment of blades, left untouched by the defeat of his House. He laughs when she nods and smiles uncertainly at the slave girls who stand gathered around with bowed heads.

“You’re a Bene Gesserit. You don’t need to smile at them.”

“But I want- Oh!”

With a swift thrust of the arm, Feyd swings his blade in a half circle and slashes two girls’ throats at once. Their willowy bodies drop to the floor, landing on top of each other with tangled limbs and inky blood dripping down their chests.

Feyd turns his head, tilts it slightly to the side and smiles at the woman who grows sickly frigid and barely manages to turn before she throws up as the overwhelming smell of fresh blood assaults her nose and gurgling last breaths her ears. She turns and runs, finding the door unresponsive to her pushing and pulling, so she backs away into the furthest corner and curls into herself, staring fearfully at the pale Harkonnen who still looks at her with an air of boyish fascination.

He lets her go after half an hour but soon learns a harsh lesson. When he seeks her out in her quarters that evening, she acts like a skittish rabbit and hides herself away in the bathroom. For some reason, this enrages Feyd so immensely, he can’t help the immediate tantrum that bursts out of him like gunfire.

For one whole week she doesn’t speak with him and Feyd finds absolutely no fun in that. This week is the worst of his life.

Desperately, he needs her to be the way she was again, the timid creature who peacefully lazes around all day and sleeps, unaware of danger. Now she won’t let him get close, glaring at him over the edge of her book whenever he loiters in her quarters like misplaced furniture, a black and white abomination in the warm, soft capsule she has created for herself on Giedi Prime.

On the seventh day, Feyd  walks up to her awkwardly, like one ready to confess his sins, or a beaten puppy the size of a man. She stiffens in her bed and is fully aware of her defenselessness, fingers tightening around the book as the mattress dips under Feyd-Rautha’s weight. But he only crawls over her and wraps his arms around her middle like he would hug a slain opponent in the arena before letting them drop into the sand.

“I wouldn’t do this to you ,” he rumbles and finds his breath uncomfortably quick and his throat uncomfortably tight. He can’t look her in the eyes.

“But you did this to them ,” she whispers and Feyd is left speechless as to why she would care. Yet for some reason, she drops her book on the floor and hugs him back, hiding her sniffling face in his shoulder. Like a toddler walking his first steps, Feyd pets the back of her head until her tears diminish to a small trickle that is soaked up by his shirt.

Months go by and the woman’s chamber becomes a place of forbidden things. No servant ear must ever hear about what goes down in there, how Feyd stains his hands with softness and sleep, not because he is tired but because he feels like it, how he eats the pastries that are made for her mouth not his, how he reads the pointless literature that forces him to imagine places he’s never been to and people that aren’t real. 

The woman doesn't even want anything from him in return and doesn't complain when he lays his head in her lap when he decides to sleep. She softly scrapes her nails over his scalp without being prompted and he never takes long to fall asleep. She could have plotted his death this whole time long, killed him now with a Gom Jabbar, and he wouldn't have cracked an eye open.

Feyd awakes in the late evening, though he can’t tell the hour of day through the ever-drawn curtains that block out the sun’s harmful wavelengths. Consciousness returns to him as a slow stream and he breathes drowsily against her thigh, listening to the seconds on the clock tick by. She has finished her book and placed it aside, now only focused on stroking his head.

“Do you sometimes think about me?” Feyd slurs, which leaves her wondering if he’s still half asleep.

“Of course, I think about you.” Her fingers curl around his jaws and the pad of her thumb finds the apple of his soft, pale cheek.

“Even when I’m not around?” He inhales the scent of laundry detergent and the subtle note of perfume that clings to the layers of her gown. The warmth of her lap perfuses the fabric and a light current of arousal flows through Feyd-Rautha’s awakening body. Hardness takes hold of his drowsy cock and he wonders when she will finally make a comment or do something about it. He finds himself wanting to hike up her dress and kiss the parts of her body that he has never seen.

“Especially when you’re not around.”

“So, you miss me?” Feyd’s voice becomes sharp like the cutting edge of a blade and his ears perk up. She only laughs softly upon that and curls both arms around his shoulders. Feyd is glad she can’t properly see his face now, ashamed of jumping to such a conclusion.

“You can’t go out there. It’ll make you sick.” Feyd stops the Bene Gesserit woman in the hallway. One half of her body is already bathed in brightness and one eye squints into the unforgiving sunlight.

Even though she seems to have been so very content in her quarters so far, a flash of disappointment washes over her face. “Not even for a short walk?”

“It’s not safe when you’re not Harkonnen. It’ll make you sick,” he emphasizes. “And there’s nothing out there. Only desperate people.” He curls his hand around the crook of her elbow and tugs her away from the light, breathing a quiet sigh of relief when color returns to her skin and hair.

The next day, Feyd is in for an unpleasant surprise.

The woman is found wandering in the sunlight without an umbrella, not even a protective shawl wrapped around her bare shoulders. A pair of Atreides guards spot her slumped over in the shade of a building, blinking disoriented into the light with a colorless rash of blisters on her exposed skin.

Half an hour later, she is back in her darkened quarters, tucked into bed with a soothing ointment applied to her skin.

Her eyes are glazed over with half-translucent milkiness as she stares at the ceiling above her bed. Her lungs still ache and wheeze from the residue toxins she had breathed from the polluted air and her temporarily blinded gaze flitters with silvery dots. Just barely she can make out Feyd-Rautha’s angry, white skull moving back and forth..

“This wouldn’t have happened if you read something substantial every now and then,” Feyd hisses, pacing in front of her bed. “If you had at least worn protection for your eyes and flesh.”

“It was so warm outside.” She tries to justify her lack of protective layers.

“Yes, because of the infrared radiation that cooks the atmosphere!”

She attempts to turn her head away so as not to see the flickering vision of Feyd’s accusatory visage, but he leans down and cups her face with both hands, drawing a whimper from her. The splitting headache turns every movement into agony.

“A few minutes later, and you would have gotten caught up in the sour rain.” Feyd’s voice quivers now. The sour rain brings cancer to foreigners and no one knows a cure for that.

“There was no sign of rain when I was out,” she meekly defends herself, cradled by two strong hands.

“The climate is turbulent on Giedi Prime and our storms are as ferocious as they are sudden. You know what the sour rain does.”

“I'm sorry.” Blistered hands carefully wrap around Feyd-Rautha's wrists, neither pulling nor pushing. Her fingers softly slip over the veins that coil over the back of his hand and between his knuckles.

“But you're a Bene Gesserit. You have control over your own cells, you could have reversed the damage, had it happened.” Feyd's gaze jumps from milky eye to milky eye, wondering why she isn't doing anything against this. “Right?”

She only breathes a soft sigh against his lips as he hovers impossibly close. “Feyd…”

Her lips brush against his as she speaks and a jolt of surprise prickles through the both of them. Feyd is suddenly overly aware of the weight of his own body and he cannot push himself away from the woman. A pull stronger than gravity tugs him down and his lips fall to hers, softly kissing, tasting her saliva and a note of ointment.

“Feyd, everything hurts.” The meek whisper is barely audible, even to her own ears. Her body yearns and arches, separated from him by thick layers of blankets. 

“Kiss me now, before you get yourself killed out there and we don’t get the chance.” Feyd knows he shouldn’t. Even her lips are colored red with a rash, but her hands slip from his wrists to his cheeks, holding him close. Moaning, Feyd’s lips part and he moves his mouth and tongue with as much gentleness as he can muster, softly rutting against her hip over the blanket.

Feyd rumbles: “I should keep you on a leash for your own safety.” The idea makes his cock jump against the blankets and after so many months of thinking about so many things, his balls feel plump like ripe apples.

But they only kiss while sour rain slaps against the windows.

“Do you ever fight?” Feyd ponders while sticking his finger into the soil of the lush potted  plant with wide, green leaves to test how moist it is. It could use a little water.

“You know what I do all day. Have you ever seen me fight?” The woman perks up, her skin healthy and her eyes clear again, like the lakes of Kaitain.

“Let me specify. Did you ever fight?” Feyd lets water from the can splash into the flower pot and the longer she looks, the more she gets used to the view of other things than weapons in his hands. She cocks a brow at him, no longer having so much trouble looking him in the eyes that are dark but usually glazed over with harmlessness when he is around her. “I’m only asking because you seemed so… bored, before the incident happened.”

Guilt drums against his heart with a soft pitter-patter that is like the droplets that soak the soil. He wishes he could offer her more. The longer she ponders, the more awful he feels.

“I sometimes fight with myself.” Her tone of voice indicates this is a big confession.

“How so?” Feyd is confused. He sets down the can and cautiously stalks closer with cat-like grace, head tilted to the right.

“It's a fight that I can't win, I can only delay it.”

“I don't understand that.” Slowly he blinks once, lowering his gaze, then lifting it again. The soft golden light of the glow orbs frays against his blonde lashes.

She pensively sighs. “Are you never angry with yourself? Or dissatisfied?”

“... No.”

She chuckles like she so often does, like he’s missing an obvious clue and Feyd angrily bends down, caging her on the sofa with both hands planted on the seat cushions on either side of her. “Don’t laugh at me, woman. I hate when you do that!”

“Then you know why I’m doing it, or else you wouldn’t hate it.”

“You’re not smarter than me.”

“I am indeed not.” Her eyes dig brightly into his and Feyd swallows. His jaws work and after a minute he pulls away from the intensity of her gaze, looking down at her chest instead. Softly, her hand cups his jaws and her fingers dance over his skin like feathers.

“But that’s not a real fight. You know that’s not what I meant. I’m talking about training and… gladiatorial games.” Petulantly, his eyes lift to hers again.

“How is self doubt not a real fight?” She tilts her head and Feyd swears she never did this at the beginning of their acquaintance.

“I… I didn’t want to talk philosophy, I just wanted to offer you a distraction from your boredom. I thought you might enjoy a fight.” Upon that, she giggles, something flustered in her voice, and Feyd grips the hand that cups his jaw, sliding it to the front so he can kiss her palm with plush, pouty lips. “Always laughing at me,” he grumbles and proceeds to kiss the inside of her hand until she wraps her arms around his head and locks her lips with his.

Much later, Feyd realizes he probably missed a hint.

The right moment is now! No. Yes. Another breath, another minute, another turn of the page while she caresses Feyd-Rautha’s face in her lap. With her Bene Gesserit awareness (Feyd still isn’t sure if she even possesses it), she can probably hear his labored breathing and quick heartbeat. His clammy palms occasionally slide over the blanket she had thrown over her legs before Feyd settled there.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“Yes?” Her thumb settles right over the point of his neck, between muscles and tendons, where his pulse hammers the hardest.

“I’ve been wondering…” Feyd twists the blanket and stares at the potted plant. “Are there other things you like to do just for the sake of it? Just like reading or napping…” 

In his whole life, he has never had sex for any other reason than to demonstrate power, or the desire to hurt and be hurt. To think he could have some just for the mundane pleasure of it feels almost forbidden. Feyd is ashamed to ask plainly, but she can read the thoughts behind his boyish eyes. 

She has been expecting this to happen and she is prepared, yet she is not. Before her stands a human now, with all the facettes one should have. 

“Yes, there are…” Pensively, she looks down at her lap. A faint warmth has risen to her cheeks and Feyd-Rautha takes proud notice of her coy glance, raising himself on his hands on either side of her lap.

“Then why did you never…?” His question trails off into nothingness when he notices the petulance in his own voice. He attempts to sit in a way that hides the tent in his pants.

“Don’t,” she scolds him and places her hand on his pale wrist, curling her fingers around the curve of the bone. Feyd inhales sharply and allows her to peel his arm away from his body. For the first time, she actively looks at the bulge of his clothed cock and Feyd has never felt so scrutinized. In an instant, her hand is beneath his shirt, fingers splayed over his hard tummy below his navel. “Why didn’t you?”

She moves her hand as if wanting to slip away and abandon his scalding skin. “Don’t stop~” Feyd whispers, half-lidded eyes dropped to her wrist that disappears under his shirt.

A moment later, her fingers curl around the waistband of his trousers and his grip the laces of her gown and they tear each other’s clothes away with awkward impatience. When Feyd is naked before her, she sinks into the pillows with a meek sigh, swallowing when he climbs on top of her and parts her legs where her pussy sits flushed and wet at the apex of her thighs, waiting for his caress longer than her pride allows her to admit.

She marvels at his hard curves and planes of marble, so pale, so soft. So seraphic. His nipples harden when she slides her palms over each pectoral. For now, she avoids looking at his cock but she feels the ghost of its scalding touch against her soft thigh.

“You’re beautiful,” Feyd breathes, raking his eyes down her exposed skin, studying each mark, each fold, each dimple.

“I was never certain if you found me beautiful,” she whispers and Feyd picks out the insecurity in her voice. His tongue presses against the backside of his inky teeth, wanting to call her stupid for assuming he might not find her beautiful, but he realizes he is no better himself. Anxiety pricks against his stomach like ice shards.

The woman smiles and cranes her head to brush her lips against his, then giggles softly. “Yes, I find you beautiful too.”

The anxious knot unravels and Feyd bares his teeth, chasing after her mouth until he’s got her pinned against the pillow and steals her breath. His hard chest presses against the soft mounds of her breasts and his cock slides against her thigh, bending downwards so it is wedged between their pelvises. The essence of her yearning cunt coats its upper side.

Their kisses turn desperate and sloppy and they part for breath, piercing each other with lust-heavy eyes. Feyd-Rautha’s plush lips are swollen and a low moan escapes him when she presses her mouth against the underside of his gently curved jaw, nipping and smelling his skin while Feyd’s fingers slide from her knee down her inner thigh and brush against the tender, hot parts of her.

He never used to pay attention to how soft and hot and responsive a woman can be there, how willingly her hips jump against his hand when he circles the tender bud of nerves with his fingertips.

When he slides two fingers into her weeping slit, her mouth detaches from Feyd’s jaws and her head drops back on the pillow, eyes closed, spine arched. His fingers sink as deep as they can go, soaking in her essence that generously spills from her inner walls.

“Did you think of this often?” Feyd rumbles and the grating sound of his voice makes her jump. Her eyes snap open and her pussy squeezes his fingers. Leisurely, he drags them against her inner walls, curling them slightly, so her eyes gloss over and her wet lashes flutter. “You did, didn't you? You daydreamed about my fingers in your little pussy.”

She doesn't need to reply for him to know it's true. Her knees bend further up against her chest, angling her pelvis so he plunges into her cunt just right. As pleasure rises, her neck writhes  from left to right, teeth on her lip, toes flexed. Feyd knows how to read the signs.

Mesmerized, he sits between her legs, watching with boyish fascination as his fingers sink into her puffy hole and come out glistening wet between her lower lips, how her essence dribbles down the cleft of her ass. His unoccupied hand sprawls over her lower belly and toys with her. With his thumb, Feyd pulls up the hood of her clit and marvels at the little nub that throbs for attention.

Her hips buck, fucking herself on his fingers while he lets a thread of drool drip down on her clit. She whines when the warm liquid drips over the tender bud, bending her leg even further. Feyd has never touched a woman so attentively. As soon as his thumb rubs over the lubricated little nub, she thrashes, moaning and clawing at his knees. But Feyd pacifies her with her soft circles over the maddening spot, turning her legs and brain into mush. 

“Wait~”

Feyd doesn’t wait. Three splashes of wetness squirt against his wrist and the woman covers her face with her forearms, moaning and whining as her release rolls through her in hard waves. Mesmerized, Feyd regards the liquid that dribbles hotly down his skin. 

Her limbs feel like putty, like a doll's that he can bend and fold as he likes. Feyd's fingers slowly slip out of her puffy hole which feels as ready as it can be to accommodate his cock.

She whimpers weakly, not ready to face reality and Feyd-Rautha's wet skin and the awe in his eyes with which he regards the glistening web between his fingers. Only when he nudges his cock between her boneless thighs, she stirs and dreamily eyes the pale, flushed monster that pokes needily against her cunt.

“Yes, take a good look at what I'll fill you with.”

The velvety head with its weeping slit nudges between her lower lips and her cunt yields almost too easily under pressure. Like a sheathe, she hugs him tightly, wetly squeezing inch after inch as he conquers her.

A wild  touch of something possessive and dangerous flashes over Feyd's lust-struck features. This soft thing will soon be his entirely, once he places his ultimate, inky mark against her cervix. Whether she neutralizes it with her Bene Gesserit tricks or not.

A guttural sound escapes her when the thick length pushes against the apex of her channel. The woman's arms snake around Feyd's neck, pulling him in a sweet embrace with her entire body.

“Why are you here?” Feyd repeats the question from many months ago, softly rutting against her core.

“Because I was sent here.” She gasps, pressing her face into the crook of his shoulder.

“And how do you feel about that?” Feyd's nose brushes against her hair, inhaling the sweetness and the freshness of her soap.

“You tell me, Feyd-Rautha,” she softly sighs, arching her spine against his undulating body.

“You are discontent.”

Upon that, the woman's lashes flutter, tickling his shoulder. “Hah, n-no, I’m not.”

“You’re lying now, but you usually don’t. What are you hiding from me, my darling?" 

“I’m not!” Her mouth stands agape and her back arches off the bed, pebbled nipples kissing Feyd’s silky chest. 

“My darling,” Feyd repeats and she purrs like a little cat for him, wrapping her legs around his waist. So, she likes being his darling, Feyd notes with a skipping heart. "Why would you lie to me?"

“I didn't want to be here," she admits. Wet eyes look back at him when her head sinks into the pillow. "It’s not nice, being called useless.”

“Useless?! By whom?” Anger fuels Feyd's movement but the brief pain of nails digging into his shoulder blades soothes him and a soft moan curls around his lips.

“By my fellow Bene Gesserit sisters, of course. They had no use for me until the fall of your House.” The slightly quicker rhythm makes her hiss through her teeth. "They can rot and die for all I care."

Feyd's eyes grow wondrous and wide, hips stuttering as he regards his darling with endless fascination. Her violence is sweet like berries. How lucky he is to bear witness of it tonight, all the while her warm, sodden pussy holds his cock in a lover's embrace.

“I manipulated you,” she confesses under tears and thinks Feyd-Rautha will probably flay her alive now. “When I went out into the sun and made myself sick, I just wanted to see if you’d take care of me.”

“You sound like you think I’d be mad.” Avidly, Feyd rolls his pelvis. Pleasure flutters through his nerves with every heartbeat, sweet and wild. Her eyes meet his with equal fascination and her fingertips dip into the groove of his spine.

“When did you become so… so…?”

“So… gentle?” Feyd purrs, laughing softly like she did so many times. “You made me this way.”

“Yes, and it was wrong! What gave me the right?” Her voice trembles with anger now and she claws at his back like she wants to flay him, strip the layers of faux skin off so he may become what he was again.

Feyd chuckles louder now, lips pulling away from inky teeth as he ruts quicker into her cunt, making her groan through gritted teeth. “You just gave me something I didn’t know I missed.”

“But what if-”

“No.”

“What if I killed you?”

“Killed me?” Feyd’s dark eyes sparkle with humor. “You’re a funny witch. I’m still here.” His palm slides over her breasts and pebbled nipples, settling heavily on her clavicles before closing around her throat. Her cunt reacts in an instant, clenching around him. “I can give you more proof.” Feyd leers at the woman who lies beneath him in submission. “Do you want more proof?”

Eagerly, she nods, exhaling a soft, strained moan, lips parting as she struggles for oxygen.

"Would you like my knife against your throat and your tits?"

Heat rushes to her cheeks so they feel like two ripe apples, ready for the harvest. "Yes, please~"

“You’re so sweet when you’re worried for me,” Feyd giggles. His voice is like stones grating against one another as he reaches for the kukri in the sheath at his belt which lies discarded in the folds of the soft, crumpled sheets. Feyd brandishes it with a flash of painted metal. A soft shade of gold, because the world has been feeling lighter lately.

Still humored, Feyd raises himself high enough to create generous space between their chests, so he can brush the blade featherlight against his woman's nipple. "Would you like me to make a cut, to prove I'm still in there?"

Avidly, she nods, bare heels digging into Feyd's ass cheeks as she clings to his rolling hips.

Feyd slashes the blade over her breasts, one, two, three, creating shallow lines from which red droplets bead like tiny berries and meander down her sternum along convoluted paths. She moans sweetly for him, muscles in her neck flexing against his calloused hand. "There, now we're even. We both lied a little. I said one cut and made three."

Feyd's lashes cast long shadows over the glinting metal when he brings the blade to his mouth and gingerly laps up the red beads. The woman's hand slips over his hard, smooth shoulder and the muscles that ripple underneath. She circles his wrist to guide the blade away from his plush mouth, then plunges her thumb past his soft bottom lip, swiping over the wetness of blood and saliva.

"Drink it from the source then," she softly hums and Feyd obeys, dropping the knife and bending over her heaving chest. He laps the salt off her skin and then finds the stinging wounds with his tongue, tracing the hairline cuts from bottom to top, tasting iron. Feyd nurses nectar from his flower. Moaning, he peers up at her through feathery lashes as his body undulates against hers with increasing pace.

The drag of his cock shoots molten pleasure through her core and she clings to him with arms and legs, like he is the only soft and living thing on Giedi Prime. She moans his name and Feyd is swathed in a web of hazy bliss, raising his face from her chest. A little streak of crimson still clings to his smooth chin and she pulls him down to kiss the blood off his skin.

His fingers flex around her throat, rather holding onto her than strangulating her. She gladly lets him and regards the sweet despair in Feyd's eyes as he chases after his high in the warmth of her body, stretching her with each drag of his cock.

Feyd wonders if he should make her cum again, if that's what a lover would do, but his building climax coils like a snake in his guts and there is no space between their sweaty bodies for his hand to slip between her thighs and tease her bundle of nerves. Like roots slung around a tree trunk, her legs are wrapped around Feyd's hips, reeling him in, again, again, again. The rhythm hypnotizes him and he cannot fight against the pull of release.

His jaws go slack and his entire complexion softens when his climax rolls through him in long waves, each one pulling him deeper and deeper into the weave of his mellow darling's body and soul. While he still fills up her cunt with thick ropes of seed, blissful mellowness spreads through Feyd-Rautha like a touch of mercy. 

Moaning, he slumps down and her body is his pillow. He's never shown a semblance of vulnerability after fucking a woman, but now fatigue pulls on his bones and he suckles softly on the soft spot between her neck and shoulder. His balls and pelvis are nestled against the woman's warm, full center and his broad chest against her breasts.

“My darling…” Feyd hums.

He crawls into her embrace and curls against her frame like an unborn against the womb, momentarily stripped of cruelty and all the black and white illnesses that fester on Giedi Prime.

Out of one gentle poison flower might yet bloom an entire garden, if nurtured with love.

FEYD TAG LIST:

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted, @sunny747

@ughdontbeboring, @meetmeatyourworst, @gravesdiggergirl

[greenqueenhightower]

A Margaret Beaufort Analysis of Alicent

I rewatched HOTD, the White Queen and the White Princess, and I noticed a lot of similarities between Alicent and Margaret Beaufort (mother to King Henry VII and a powerful political mastermind during the Wars of the Roses), that I'd dare say the historical Margaret Beaufort had to be the inspiration behind Alicent's character.

(1) Both Margaret and Alicent were married off to older men they did not desire, at a very young age. Margaret was SEVEN when she married her first husband, TWELVE when she married Edmund Tudor, and THIRTEEN when she bore Henry Tudor and was widowed. Alicent is around fifteen when she marries Viserys in HOTD and becomes pregnant for three consecutive years, thus having three children by the age of eighteen.

(2) Character-wise, Margaret and Alicent are both ambitious women navigating the deep patriarchal waters of their era to secure power for their sons. They are defined by their unwavering devotion to their sons’ political futures. Margaret lives her life with the singular goal of placing her only son, Henry Tudor, on the English throne. Everything she does—from political maneuvering to religious justification—is in service of this mission. Each action, from high treason to committing murder, she views as her calling: "it is God's will" for her to advocate for her son's rights, his future, but also his very life. Not securing the throne would mean execution for her, her son Henry, and his supporters. Similarly, Alicent's primary motivation in placing Aegon on the throne is to preserve her children's lives from the impending threat their mere existence as heirs poses. Just like Henry Tudor, Aegon is a threat to the claimants of the throne, and just like Margaret, Alicent grasps the political reins and has her son Aegon crowned king. Alicent, too, believes that it is her duty, even her moral obligation, to ensure that her family retains power.

(3) Margaret and Alicent's lives are governed by "duty and sacrifice." Religious conviction is central in how they perceive and justify their actions. Margaret is deeply pious and believes that her cause is divinely ordained—God wants her son to be king, and she was chosen by God to fulfill that mission. Alicent's religious and moral values are based on the faith of the Seven and give her a sense of righteousness, but also serve as a veil for her ambitions.

(4) In terms of power, both Margaret and Alicent operate within systems that limit their authority due to their gender. Nevertheless, they find ways to influence powerful men around them. Margaret works through her marriages and alliances. Alicent, as Queen and later Queen Dowager, wields considerable soft power through her father Otto, her children, and the Small Council. In both cases, their roles as mothers are the key to their influence. Margaret ruthlessly supports rebellions, plots against rival claimants, and is willing to spill blood for her son’s ascension, the sole Lancaster heir. Alicent ultimately supports a coup that defies her husband’s wishes and initiates a war for the throne, being the mother of three male Targaryen heirs. Even when they struggle with guilt and moral conflict, they remain steadfast in the belief that what they’re doing is right—or at least necessary, and further pursue their influence.

Overall, both Margaret Beaufort and Alicent Hightower stand as compelling portraits of women and queens who challenge their era’s expectations. They are politically savvy, morally complex, ambitious beyond the norm, and they succeed in shaping their political world through strategy, sacrifice, and unyielding maternal will.

And before you come at me, yes, they are not entirely the same. I'd say that Alicent is a more sensitive and humanized representation of Margaret Beaufort, but I can see the parallels and the inspiration behind Alicent's conception as a character modeled to some extent after historical-Margaret's persona.

[itoshiabi]

💞Bllk Boys finding out you write about other anime characters on Tumblr💞

ft- Rin, Shidou, Hiori, Kaiser

Pt-1 here

Pt-2 here

ITOSHI RIN

It's one of those scorching summer days when the sun feels heavier than usual and time drips slow like sweat down your neck. After a long, chaotic day out with friends, you quietly slip into Rin's house—not just to escape the heat, but to rest. And maybe, to give him company. Not that he ever asks. You both just... know.

After a refreshing cold shower, you collapse in Rin's bed and are fast asleep within minutes, face half-buried in his pillow, hair still damp. Meanwhile, Rin's sitting on the edge of the bed, back leaning against the headboard, watching soccer analysis videos on his phone like he usually does when he's winding down.

He's so focused—headphones in, eyes sharp—that he doesn't even notice his phone's battery dying until the screen goes black. He groans, annoyed, not wanting to break focus just to plug it in. Instead, without thinking, he grabs your phone from the nightstand. It's unlocked. Typical.

He opens YouTube again and lets the video play—but your notifications are still on. And then it happens.

@Levi'ssimp and 1k others liked your post.

Rin squints at the pop-up. Levi's… simp? He tries to swipe the notification away, but his thumb accidentally taps it instead.

The screen loads straight into Tumblr.

No... no, nonono...

Your blog appears.

His heart sinks a little.

The latest post is a manga panel of Levi Ackerman drinking from a glass with a lazy, bored look in his eyes. And underneath…

"He looks so bored while drinking that. Someone give him my thigh instead."

Rin nearly drops your phone.

He stares at the caption, completely still. Mouth parted. Blinking. Processing.

He knows you like Attack on Titan. You made him watch a few episodes with you while you practically narrated the entire thing. He tolerated it. Thought it was just another fandom thing.

But this?!

He scrolls down, silent and betrayed.

"Levi Ackerman could stab me in the heart (emotionally) and I'd say thank you."

"He's short, deadly, and emotionally constipated—just my type."

Rin's eye twitches. His fingers tighten around your phone.

Short? Deadly? Emotionally constipated? Just your type?

He scoffs under his breath, arms now crossed as he stares at the screen like it just personally insulted him. The girl he's deeply in love with— the girl he loves more than anyone, even more than Sae—is thirsting after a fictional man half his size with permanent eyebags and a cravat?

He's spiraling silently, barely noticing that you're awake now, sleepily hugging his waist. You look up at him with a beautiful smile, eyes still heavy-lidded.

"Hey…" you mumble. "Are you… checking my blog without permission? Wow. I didn't think you were that type of guy."

Rin doesn't look at you. "Not my fault your notifications are on. I accidentally clicked it."

You raise an eyebrow. "You could've asked."

"You were sleeping."

You hum. "Still… What's your opinion?" You grin. "I have a lot of followers, right?"

Rin turns his head slowly, his expression blank, deadpan. "Opinion on what? That you love a short, fictional soldier and thirst over him more than your real, living, six-foot boyfriend?"

"Yes? Wait...." You blink. "Are you jealous?"

He scoffs, arms crossed tighter. "I literally embody 80% of that guy."

You bite your lip to keep from laughing. Rin's voice rises a little, irritation laced with pouty disbelief. "I'm colder. I'm real. I'm richer. Where"s my fanfic?"

You smirk and poke his cheek. "You're missing the cravat."

Rin glares at you, mutters something under his breath about stealing Levi's haircut, and storms off to the home gym. He slams the door behind him and spends the next three hours sulking on the treadmill while angrily plotting how to get someone to ghostwrite Rin Itoshi x Reader fanfiction.

You fall asleep again, smiling into his pillow.

The summer heat has mellowed into something softer by the time you crash at Shido's place. After an afternoon full of games, junk food, and chaotic screaming over Uno cards, you're beat. Shidou, though? He's still buzzing with energy, tossing a ball up against the wall while humming something off-key.

Shidou Ryosei

Eventually, he gets bored of bouncing the ball and decides to check his phone. It's dead. Of course.

He glances at your phone on the couch next to you—unlocked, tempting, dumb move, babe—and grabs it without asking. You're half-asleep anyway, curled up with a throw pillow, clearly too tired to notice.

He opens YouTube for highlights of his last match, but before the video loads, a Tumblr notification pops up.

@BungeeSlut and 900 others liked your post.

Shidou tilts his head.

Bungee Slut?

Instead of swiping it away like a normal person, he taps it immediately, nosey as hell. And that's when it happens.

Your blog loads. His eyes widen. Your recent post?

A close-up of Hisoka from Hunter x Hunter, licking his lips with that signature psychotic glint in his eye.

"Hisoka could kill me mid-makeout and I'd still give him a 10/10 for the experience."

Shidou sits there.

Blinking.

Processing.

He scrolls.

"I don't care what anyone says. Psychotic, mysterious men with weird fashion and murder kinks are elite."

"Hisoka's voice (moan) alone could turn me on like I've never before."

"Me, pretending I don't love men with clown energy who could snap at any moment."

Shidou blinks again.

"EXCUSE ME?" he yells.

You jolt awake on the couch, blinking at him blearily."What?"

He holds up your phone like it's covered in mold. "THIS is what you do when I'm not around?! Posting about murder clowns with tongue fetishes?!"

You squint, confused, then gasp. "Wait, did you just go through my Tumblr?!"

"You left it open! What did you want me to do—ignore it?!"

"Yes?! Normal people do that?!"

"I'm not normal, babe. You know that."

You groan, rubbing your face. "Okay, fine, I'm sorry, it's just a character crush—"

Shidou throws himself dramatically onto the couch next to you, still holding the phone. "He's literally a clown. A sweaty, magic pedo clown. You could've chosen, like, Gojo or something, but this freak?"

You grin sleepily. "Aww. Are you jealous of Hisoka?"

"I'm not jealous," he spits, looking absolutely feral. "I'm offended. What does he have that I don't?! I'm hot, dangerous, unpredictable—the full package! I could totally kill you mid-makeout too! I've literally bitten people on the field!"

You try not to laugh. "You're forgetting the best part. He's got the voice."

Shidou narrows his eyes. "I'll voice act for you right now. Come here."

"Oh God, no—"

He clears his throat and leans in close. In the worst, most unholy Hisoka impression ever, he whispers:

"Hmmmm~ Bungee GUM has the properties of both rubber… and jealousy"

You burst into laughter, shoving him off you while he cackles like a maniac. Then he grabs you and pulls you back into his lap.

"Delete the post," he grins, nose brushing against yours.

"I'm not deleting anything."

"Then I'm posting a thirst trap with the caption, 'My girl likes clowns? Here's one that'll ruin her better.'"

"You wouldn't!"

"Oh, babe," he smirks. "Watch me."

You're at Hiori's place, curled up on his bed, half-asleep after watching anime together. He's sitting on the floor beside the bed with his back propped against the mattress, his phone plugged in beside him, screen black and charging.

Hiori Yo

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. Hiori glances at it. A soft blue light flashes across the screen.

He doesn't usually snoop. He respects your privacy, always has.

But your Tumblr notification lights up.

@titanboyblues and 1.2k others liked your post.

He tilts his head. That's new…

He only means to dismiss the notification—really, he does—but instead, his thumb brushes the screen.

And suddenly, your Tumblr blog is open in front of him.

He freezes.

The most recent post?

A screenshot of Armin Arlert from Attack on Titan, looking soft, smart, and a little intense, lit by the glow of firelight.

Underneath it, your caption reads:

"He could write a 10-step plan to destroy me emotionally and I'd still kiss him on the mouth."

Hiori blinks. His fingers pause mid-scroll. He knows you love Attack on Titan. You'd gushed about the characters before. You even made him watch the Marley arc with you while explaining the political structure like a college professor.

But… this?

He scrolls down a little more, quietly.

"Armin with that soft voice and scary IQ? Yeah, I'm feral."

"He's smart, gentle, and can and will blow up a harbor if pushed hard enough. I love morally conflicted boys."

"Some people want a protector. I want an emotionally unstable genius with war trauma and a book collection."

Hiori blinks again.

There's a strange twist in his chest. It's not exactly jealousy—he's not the possessive type—but it's definitely… something.

He stares at the screen a second longer before he softly mutters, "So that's your type."

You shift behind him on the bed and blink awake groggily. "Mmm? Hiori…?"

He glances up at you and turns the phone slightly.

Your stomach drops. "HEY—!"

He doesn't sound angry when he speaks. If anything, he sounds calm. Calm and... mildly betrayed.

"You said you liked gentle guys with pretty eyes."

"I do!"

"You didn't say they had to be fictional geniuses with a God complex."

You sit up fast and grab your phone. "That's just a silly blog! I don't actually—okay, maybe a little—but you're being dramatic!"

Hiori hugs his knees and rests his chin on top of them, eyes half-lidded. "You like blondes now?"

"What—no! It's not like that."

"Mhm."

You crawl down beside him, nudging his shoulder.

"You're not mad, right?"

He's quiet for a moment before he speaks softly. "I guess I just didn't know you wanted someone who could emotionally ruin a government."

You bite back a laugh. "Okay, now you're being ridiculous. Armin's beautiful, sure, but you're real. You're kind, smart, emotionally stable—"

"I read books too, you know," he mutters, trying not to pout.

You grin, cupping his face and turning it toward you. "Yeah, and you look better doing it."

He finally breaks—his cheeks go faintly pink, and he exhales like he was holding in a breath the whole time. "Okay. I forgive you. But only because I'm taller than him."

"Barely," you tease.

"I'll take it."

Then, a pause.

"Do you want me to grow my hair out like him?"

You burst out laughing and tackle him into a hug.

"No you're perfect just the way you are...."

MICHAEL KAISER

You're spending the day at Kaiser's penthouse in Germany, where the AC is blasting, sunlight filters through gauzy curtains, and you're lazing on the couch in one of his oversized hoodies—legs stretched over his lap while he's doing who-knows-what on his laptop.

He looks too pretty to be real, blue-tinted glasses perched on his nose, gold rings glittering as he types. You're half-dozing, phone in hand, casually reblogging stuff on Tumblr like always.

Eventually, you forget to lock your phone before rolling over and dozing off completely.

You don't even notice when Kaiser's laptop shuts, or when he absentmindedly reaches for your phone to play a song—because of course he needs the right vibe before checking himself out in the mirror again.

But the second he taps the screen, a notification pops up.

@nooseluvr and 1.1k others liked your post.

Kaiser squints.

Noose lover?? What the hell kind of cursed corner of the internet are you on?

Curiosity gets the better of him. He clicks.

And your blog opens.

First thing on the screen?

A black-and-white manga panel of Dazai Osamu, smirking under a streetlamp with that signature bandaged neck and sleepy gaze.

Your caption underneath?

"He looks like he just finished faking his death and gaslighting the moon. I want him carnally."

Kaiser's jaw drops.

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

He scrolls. Fast.

"Dazai could manipulate me into robbing a bank and I’d still thank him for choosing me."

"His trauma is my type. He's sad, sexy, and smarter than everyone else—where do I apply for a lifelong emotionally toxic situationship?"

"Bandages??? Unstable??? Deadly??? THIS MAN INVENTED PEAK."

Kaiser nearly throws your phone across the room.

His eye twitches. The Michael Kaiser, THE star of Bastard München, THE blue-eyed, golden-haired prodigy that fans throw their bras at—is being mentally CHEATED on… with a two-dimensional suicidal con artist.

He grips the phone like it insulted his bloodline.

You blink awake at the sound of dramatic muttering.

"Kaiser…?"

He whips his head toward you, wounded. "Tell me it's ironic. Tell me you don't actually want to bang a walking caution sign with daddy issues."

You sit up slowly, confused. "What—wait, are you on my Tumblr?!"

"Why are you thirsting over an emotionally unstable mime with a noose kink and a death wish?!"

You burst into laughter. "Oh my god—are you jealous of Dazai Osamu?"

"I'm not jealous," Kaiser snaps, tossing your phone onto your lap. "I'm offended. I have everything he has—minus the crippling depression and hospital bracelets."

You giggle, leaning into him. "You also don't have a trench coat or a bandage aesthetic. Want me to get you some?"

He glares. "If I wrap my arms in gauze, will you finally blog about me?"

You grin. "Should I write, 'Michael Kaiser just ghosted me while smiling and I've never been more in love'?"

He leans in, voice low. "Write, 'Michael Kaiser ruined my life and I'd still die for him.' That's more accurate."

You stare at him, breath catching slightly. "You're not actually mad… right?"

He flicks your forehead, expression smug but his tone serious beneath the tease. "You're mine. Not some fictional emo boy's."

You smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Then act like it."

Kaiser grins. "Say less."

Next morning, a mysterious Tumblr account tagged you in a post.

@kaiserreichofficial: "Your fictional emo can't do this. [insert gym thirst trap selfie] #BlueEyedProblem #MichaelKaiserSupremacy

The caption?

"Bandages are temporary. I'm forever."

[watchingblsnowandforever]

Heesu in Class 2: A personal reminder why I watch queer media

As always I am super late to the party

I recently binged Heesu in Class 2, and I've read a lot of posts about it on here, both positive and negative.

All I need to say or will say has probably already been said in the posts I'm going to reference (notes at the end), but I still wanted to make this post because I watched the series on a whim, but it hit really close to home.

Before we go any further, some things that I need to point out: I have not read the webtoon (I started it after watching the show) and this post is going to have personal takes that might not resonate with everyone. Also, this is only my second meta analysis post, and I haven't watched very many BLs to truly comment on the nature of BL or queer media of a particular kind (though I try to maintain diversity in what I watch), so if I say something incorrect, I'm always open to constructive criticism.

Firstly, as a queer person who'd been in high school not so long ago, I could really relate to the characters and the narrative.

I had an unrequited crush on a really close friend. I never confessed. To this day, I think about the what ifs. Using Heesu's words, I had used up all my feelings for her so I got over her, but maybe confessing when I had the chance would have given me the closure too.

So when I saw that the story started with Heesu having feelings for his best friend that might or might not be returned, I was instantly hooked.

Secondly, the narrative is much more than it seems, and every single scene has a purpose, a meaning, a layer that might just go unseen if you don't know to look for it.

The het narratives are important. Did it frustrate me? To no end. Did I actually consider for a short period to put this show on hold? Heck yeah. Did I finally understand why the het narrative was important to highlight the queer one? Yes.

Let us take the het plot lines one by one.

Chan Yeong and Ji Yu. The most important, the most highlighted. This is a very common story in high school. Girl likes boy, boy likes her back, and they date. I had a lot of friends with boyfriends in school (I attended an all girls school) and I see even more het couples in college. Every single time, it reminds me of what I cannot have. I can't be too close with my partner (if I were to have one), I cannot publicly show affection that goes beyond friendship, I cannot sleep on their shoulders, I cannot laugh over lunch together, I cannot go on dates. That was the same for this show. In Class 2 bolds and underlines het privilege, putting it side by side with the internal struggles Heesu has to go through.

Ho Sik. How het people can be open with their affections, but also how beauty standards play out. One girl thought he was ugly even though he worked really hard to make her a whole ass scarf, while another girl found him cute enough to pursue him even from afar.

Hee Sin. Her repeated confessions. I relate from experience when she says that when she has feelings for someone she can't help but confess, and even if she faces rejection, and dramatically mopes around till her next crush, it helps her move forward. Quite a while after I had feelings for them and even gotten over them, I confessed to a few people. Fortunately, all of them took it in stride, one of them told me she used to have a crush on me too, one was really happy and wanted to know more even though I told her my feelings for her were very short-lived, and the third person is still my friend. And confessing to people does make them happy. Unfortunately, not a lot of queer people have the freedom or confidence to do it. There are just so many things that could go wrong. Especially when the person you like is a close friend, it's incredibly hard. But in the end, her confession gets her a boyfriend, one who was in a relationship at that too. Miracles do happen.

Hee Jae. Her arc shows how easily a comfortable relationship can shift into a toxic one. I don't know how to put what I think about this relationship into words, but it's explained really well in @soypim's post (notes, reference #8).

Hee Jeong. Her story tells us to jump, to take the leap, to prioritize one's own self and dreams. Initially she was afraid to go abroad and study even when she wanted to; this fear may have stemmed from worry about her siblings (also an arc about eldest daughters), or fear from going to live in a completely unknown milieu. But Heesu's words act as a catalyst, and she is ready to take this step. Through her relationship, Heesu is also shown how a friendship doesn't have to end when one person confesses, that despite being in a relationship and breaking up and not seeing each other in a long time, Hee Jeong was still friends with her partner/best friend.

And finally, let's talk about the queer narrative.

I loved the conflict resolution. I loved how Heesu got to be angry at Seung Won. I've seen a lot of BLs, especially Thai BLs, where the lead just sort of forgives the romantic lead for playing with their feelings, and I really do not like that. I love that they cleared that, that Seung Won actually confessed, loud and clear.

They might not have kissed, but boy do I love them.

Personally, I think the scene where Heesu confesses to Chan Yeong is very realistic. I have been lucky to have queer or ally classmates, but I have seen when an indirect reference to a person not being heterosexual confused someone, and they didn't really even understand how it could be. Chan Yeong's parental pressures and expectations were also very relatable, as an Asian only child.

When Chan Yeong called Heesu to the tennis court and hit him with balls, I understood where he was coming from. I'm glad he took the time to process what he'd been told and very clearly told his friend his actual thoughts on the matter. I was glad to realize he values their friendship more than Heesu had given him credit for.

How Heesu in Class 2 was a personal reminder why I watch queer media. I feel like after watching all the BLs I have, I developed certain expectations from what I want from a 'BL'. This show reminded me that at the end of the day, I'm just another queer person searching for queer narratives not only for catharsis through fictional characters, but also to hold on to hope about queer stories. This show reminded me of my high school days and every moment was so real. I lived this show, I could see it unfolding in real time, and that made me really giddy. I want to watch more shows like these.

Finally, some moments that stuck with me in no particular order:

When Heesu saw Hee Jeong coming in late and told her to do what she wanted to, that he'd always support her.

When Heesu came out to Hee Sin. Hee Sin was visibly trying to come up with the best reply, but she handled it well.

When Heesu learns Sweong Won has two moms and he thinks "at least he won't hate me for who I am" I almost cried.

The tennis court scene.

The hand holding scene. I absolutely adored it. I want more scenes of boys giggling over holding hands.

Notes and references Posts that inspired this one (so sorry for the long list of tags 😭):

@alien-ally (post)

@bengiyo (post)

@dramalove247 (post 1 & post 2)

@jackandjoker (post)

@lurkingshan (post)

@nabi-unveiled (post)

@neuroticbookworm (post)

@soypim (post)

@wanderlust-in-my-soul (post)

and this critique by @my-rose-tinted-glasses

MY GOD this took me so long (I've been here for almost 3 hours) my eyes are dead my laptop is cursing me out.

Anygays, I really hoped y'all liked and enjoyed this!

If you read all the way till here thank you so much I love you <3

Remember to hydrate and eat properly, and here's a cupcake for you 🧁

[yuurivoice]

Seth doing boxing presumably as a hobbies to maybe like cope and express his anger and frustration in a more healthy way is SO AMAZINGGG! First off.. he looks great in that thumbnail omg, second it's so nice to see the man having a safe space to work through his emotions through a way that's comfortable with him, and through his own pace. He doesn't HAVE to do anything, and he doesn't have Derek kind of pressuring him into hurting people. HE chooses when and wear to pick up the boxing gloves, and he chooses when to put them down and it's just so great I love seeing characters healing thank you for your service man

I love fans like you because tbh, it really was just a case of "he'd be hot if he was sweaty and punched stuff" but yes you did identify why my brain told me it was a logical choice to make and I didn't hit any road bumps writing it into the plot.

The meta of it all is that I used to have a shitty garage that was a club house with a punching bag in it, and it makes sense for my Southern Queer Projection to get another slice of the inspirational pie because that was a big part of me for a while.

But any sort of martial art is actually a great combo for characters that seek control in healthy ways. Being able to defend yourself and others, especially when you've been used by others as a weapon or have been physically taken advantage of, is a big deal. It just makes sense. Seth mentions that the actual boxing skills were a thing he picked up while locked up, also makes sense that he might not have been trained until then. Seth probably made a friend who trained him up a bit while imprisoned.

So, Seth taking some of that with him into this new chapter of his life is cool. But him basically recreating a small, stripped down living space with a handful of comforts that happen to be tied to his incarceration probably means that even though he's in a much better place (certainly than Alphonse is in Chapter 4) he is not quite ready to reintegrate to an entirely normal setting. Maybe it's lingering guilt, shame, or fear. Probably a little bit of all of that. He probably feels like he's still got a price to pay, and nowhere that feels quite like he's earned the right to be just yet.

And if I psychoanalyze myself a little bit, I think it could be a projection of how I spent a lot of my adult life. I was very isolated, lived in a single room, avoided contact with others in the house, etc. and as I became more financially stable I hardly knew what to do with a whole apartment or home. I often recreate several individual spaces that are built with the ability to entirely isolate in rather than have designated spaces for individual activities around the house. Everything is made to be able to shut yourself away in and not have to run into any other housemates. So that's...probably where that came from.

That's next level shit, analysis on a video that doesn't come out for another week. Hot damn!

[imagowrites]

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales; Why It Shouldn’t Exist

Or how I invested time and energy into an analysis of a relatively dead franchise instead of doing it for my actual media analysis university course.

An essay by: a bitter and obsessed PotC fan since they were 7, with a lot of free time.

Lads, this is going to be long. You have been warned.

The Beginning

At the very beginning of the movie, we see a young Henry Turner looking for his dad.

Now, we're not talking about characterization problems or how likely it is that a ten-year-old child would risk his life to look for a man he technically only saw once; we're talking about plot problems, actual logical fallacies. My questions are:

How? The Flying Dutchman is a legendary ship, impossible to be found unless She wants to be found. The only reason we see Her in Dead Man's Chest is because Davy Jones himself is looking for Jack to collect his debt, and in that occasion the Dutchman's captain wasn't even doing what he was supposed to do, so he was most definitely in the living world. Will otherwise, he's doing the job Calypso gave him, so he's constantly in between. Is the movie trying to convince me that a kid was able to do something no one in the history of piracy was ever able to do? And even if he did, why hasn't anyone explained me how? He simply looks at a map and throws himself on the bottom of the ocean. How did he know The Dutchman was there? How did he know it would've come to surface?

Where is his mom? We got to know Elizabeth in the first three movies; we know she's a smart woman and we can assume she's an attentive mother. She didn't notice her son preparing himself for a trip in the middle of the ocean to go look for his dad? Was she distracted? Was she outsmarted by a 10ish-year-old? Or is she just not contemplated in this scenario?

Why does Will look like that? Will is doing his job, so... why does he look like he's slowly corrupting? That kind of corruption is the punishment Calypso reserves to The Dutchman's crew when the captain fails her, which isn't the case. Did they forget about it? Was the idea of putting algae on Orlando Bloom's face just impossible to resist to?

Alright, this isn't actually from this movie but it's bothering me, so I have to write it; also, it would make this whole movie unnecessary, so it's somehow related to it. Why (and I can't stress this enough) can't Elizabeth be on the Dutchman? Why can't they do the job together? Is it because she's not a pirate? I'm pretty sure se actually is. Is it because she's a woman? Last time I checked she was the KING. She wants to stay with Will forever, Will wants to stay with her forever, they can literally live forever on the same ship. Why aren't they?

Whatever the Hell Happened to Jack Sparrow

Imagine creating a character that is so iconic whenever you ask a person who was a kid in the early 2000 to imagine a pirate, they imagine said character.

Now imagine fourteen years pass and you decide to ruin that character by making him the most hideous, annoying, idiotic person in the whole saga, and we're talking about a saga that has Philip the Missionary in it. Why? Jack Sparrow is THE anti-hero. Never on the right side, but never on the wrong one. You can tell he's doing something morally questionable, but you still find yourself rooting for him. He's stupid enough to make you laugh, but he's secretly clever enough to always get away with it. Now he's just... drunk. And that's not even an excuse for this horrendous new characterization, because he was always drunk. The guy FORGOT HE WAS ROBBING A BANK, the same guy just one movie earlier was able to escape from the King of England's palace and steal a lady's earring (by pretending to be a literal slut) in the process. He just switched from the iconic drunk bi bestie everyone loves to my cringe uncle that drinks too much at Christmas parties and makes everyone uncomfortable. Please, if the risk is ruining an entire generation's beloved character, either don't make the movie or find a better explanation than "Bad luck dogs you day and night".

The Pearl in The Bottle

So... what you're telling me is that Jack Sparrow, the guy who was able to defeat Hector Barbossa, Davy Jones and Blackbeard thanks to his slyness, and who loves his Black Pearl more than anything else in the world, had said ship in a bottle in his pockets for FIVE YEARS... and he never thought about breaking the bottle to free Her. That's what you're telling me. This is the pivotal point upon which the entire Jack's plot hinges. I... I don't even know what to say. Was this supposed to be funny?

What an Incredibly Lucky Coincidence

A guy needs a treasure to save his father. To find it, he needs the help of a notorious and legendary pirate. He looks for him everywhere, sailing on dozens of ships just so he has the remote chance to stumble across the pirate. The last ship he's been on has sinked, he's the only survivor. He's been found in the middle of the ocean and someone brought him to the nearest city. Which city? I mean, the one that has both the pirate he was looking for and a lady who's the only person in the whole planet who's able to find the treasure he was looking for! And, oh my... he finds the both of them! In that same city! Without even LOOKING FOR THEM! A hell of a coincidence, if you ask me. Also known as lazy writing.

What's Wrong With the Guards?

Now, I know Pirates of the Caribbean isn't exactly known for its accurate historical reconstructions, but why are the guards in this movie acting like they're some sort of hellhounds ready to kill anyone in sight? Even pirates and traitors as Jack and Henry were supposed to stand trial before being sentenced to death. It would've probably been an unjust and barbaric trial, but there should've been one. We literally saw it, in the previous movie. Why's Jack been sentenced to death for simply existing here? He gave pirate vibes and they decided that was enough?

Paul McCartney

This is not an actual point of the analysis, I just wanted to remind people that Paul McCartney is in this movie and that's the only valid reason to watch it.

Salazar

I am confused. Once again, I have questions.

El Matador Del Mar was so good at his job he had almost defeated piracy. "The last ones joined together to try and defeat me". The last what? Pirates? There were no pirates left? This happened when Jack was young, so a lot of time before the first movie, right? Where were, I don't know... Blackbeard? Davy Jones? Barbossa? All the other Pirate Lords? I might be wrong, but I guess Salazar didn't kill them, did he? Why weren't they there during that "last battle" in which "the last ones joined together"?

The Devil's Triangle. I just don't understand what's the logic behind it. So, this is a cursed place. Whoever enters there, can't get out. One would think it means that if you get there, you die; and Salazar does die, but he somehow also becomes a ghost whose only purpose is to find Jack Sparrow and have his revenge. So, do people become ghosts when they get in The Devil's Triangle? We have to assume people have gotten stuck in there before; otherwise, there wouldn't be legends around the place. So why isn't it like full of spirits ready to haunt people? Why are Salazar and his crew the only ones?

Poseidon or Calypso?

What's the Trident of Poseidon? Does Poseidon exist? Isn't Calypso the Goddess of the sea? Breaking the Trident, you break all the curses of the sea, so the Trident must be more powerful than Calypso, which leads to a question. Where is she? She IS the sea, right? So she must have known someone was about to find the Trident and brake all curses, including her one. She just decided it was okay? It really feels like someone decided to suddenly change the world's mythology without giving explanations.

The Compass

This is possibly the most blatant plot hole in the whole saga. Probably the most blatant plot hole I've ever witnessed, and man, I watched all the Harry Potter movies. In Dead Man's Chest, Jack meets Tia Dalma in her "shop" and he tells her he's looking for the Davy Jones' key. She asks him "The compass you bartered from me, it cannot lead you to this?", making another pivotal point of Dead Men Tell No Tales factually senseless.

That man couldn't have given his compass to Jack, because that wasn't his compass.

So either Salazar is lying while telling his tale or they forgot about that line in the second movie. Anyway, let's pretend that line doesn't exist; even if that captain gave Jack his compass in that exact moment, why would it be the key to free Salazar, exactly? How is the compass in any way related to The Devil's Triangle or to Salazar? In the movie, they try to explain it with a sentence: “if you betray it, your greatest fear comes true”. So, is Salazar Jack's greatest fear? I really doesn't seem right, Jack almost didn't remember Salazar when Henry mentioned him. To Jack, he's only a guy he outsmarted decades earlier. Also, Jack technically already gave the compass away, twice: to Elizabeth in Dead Man's Chest, to make her find the chest, and to Beckett in At World's End, when they're negotiating.

That's... That's Just Body Shaming, Mate

Let's talk about her. So, the woman's ugly. It can happen that a woman is ugly. Was it necessary to build an entire scene around some blatant body shaming? This scene wants to mimic the similar scene in Dead Man's Chest: Jack's on an island, running from the main villain, and he's forced to do things he doesn't want to do until someone saves him, then it was Will, now it's Hector.

Except in Dead Man's Chest it was LITERAL CANNIBALISM he was facing, and yet he looked LESS TERRIFIED and DISGUSTED. What's exactly the message here? Lads, is marrying an ugly woman worse than cannibalism? I don't know... that was just bad.

Justice for Hector Barbossa

If you know me (you probably don't, but if you do) then you know about my obsession with Hector Barbossa. I truly believe he's the best written character in the saga, and he's in my top five of the characters I love the most in all media. I watched The Curse of the Black Pearl when I was seven and I am autistic, so I had all the time to develop a literal relationship with these characters in my head. As much as Geoffrey Rush's interpretation was impeccable, as always, it really hurt to watch Hector in this movie. He just doesn't sound like him. First of all, why isn't he on the Queen Anne's Revenge? Why's he letting someone else sail around on his ships? He would've never. Why's he just sitting on a throne and shooting musicians instead of, I don't know... being a pirate? Being a pirate is the only thing that matters to him. He says it at the end of On Stranger Tides, and he even says it in this movie, to the witch. "I'm a pirate. Always will be".

So, why isn't he pirating? What happened to him? And what about the pact with the witch? He made her curse all his enemies; that's honestly the most out-of-character thing he could've done.

Seriously, watch this movie, and then The Curse of the Black Pearl and tell me he sounds like he's the same character. Then there’s his death... was it necessary? And I don't mean if it was necessary to the plot (it wasn't), but the way he died, did it make sense? He takes the sword and sacrifices himself to kill Salazar, but WHY? Salazar was back a mortal. They could've brought him to surface and then shoot him. What was the point of his death, Disney? I will never forgive you.

I would've preferred if they never showed him again. He's alive and living his best life in Tortuga, if you ask me.

How does Carina Smyth exist?

Let's do the maths. Carina Smyth has approximately the same age as Henry Turner, who was born around nine moths after the end of At World's End. At the end of that movie, Barbossa once again stole the Black Pearl (he's iconic we stan a legend), so we have to assume it is during that time (between the At World's End and On Stranger Tides) that he conceives Carina. He stays with this woman during the whole pregnancy, bacause he says he was there when she died. So nine months, at least, right? Except; Jack makes it clear that he and Barbossa met Carina's mom, Margaret, together.

When, exactly, did this happen? It can't be between On Stranger Tides and Dead Men Tell No Tales, because Hector himself says only five years passed between the two, and Carina doesn't look like a five-year-old;

it can't be between At World's End and On Stranger Tides, because we know Jack and Barbossa weren't together, and Hector was too busy losing a leg and planning his revenge by working for the King of England; it can't be during At World's End, because Barbossa was too busy rescuing Jack and then slaying (literally and metaphorically) Beckett's men to save piracy; it can't be during Dead Man's Chest, because he was dead; it can't be during The Curse of the Black Pearl, nor during the ten years before it, because he was... he was a skeleton, I hardly believe he could reproduce, despite what’s written in some fanficions; it can't be before, of course, because Carina would be too old. The only chance, but it's a stretch, is that Hector and Jack met this Margaret Smyth years and years before, and that at a certain point (while he was still busy slaying, losing a leg or planning his revenge), for some reason he decided to come back to her and accidentally had a daughter. That would mean that Jack remembered Margaret Smyth's name DECADES after he met her.

The Post-Credit Scene: What?

WHY'S DAVY JONES BACK? The Trident technically broke all the curses of the sea. He is THE cursed man of the sea. AND HE'S DEAD. The only answer I was able to give me, is that the moment the Trident broke the curses, the curse that said if you stab his heart he dies was also broken, so he technically didn't die, but it makes even less sense, because if the curses just aren't real anymore, then a man shouldn't be able to... carve out his heart and put it in a chest, right? (Which by the way, makes Will Turner being alive senseless as well). Even if so, Davy should've come back as a human.

My conclusion is that this movie should not exist, and we, as a community, should pretend it was never made. Hector is alive. Bye.

Imago

[rottenpumpkin13]

AGSZC Streamer AU - what are their preferred games and what are they most famous for?

Sephiroth: Horror game specialist who gained notoriety for his completely deadpan reactions to jump scares. Famous for treating every horror game like a nature documentary: "Observe the careful arrangement of viscera. The arterial spray pattern suggests this creature has a fascinating understanding of human anatomy." *JUMP SCARE* "How quaint."

Think of him discussing the improbable biology of monsters while they're actively trying to kill him.

Angeal: Specializes in calming, indie games. He even somehow makes indie horror games soothing. He became famous for his unintentionally ASMR-like voice that has viewers falling asleep mid-stream. His chat is full of "I use your streams to fall asleep" and "Your voice could calm a raging behemoth." Even when he's fighting the hardest bosses his commentary sounds like a relaxation tape. Unless he's playing a cooking simulator. Then the stream becomes "WHO DESIGNED THESE PHYSICS?! THE SOUP SHOULDN'T BE DOING THAT!" and "WHO TRAINED THESE DIGITAL SOUS CHEFS!??" and of course "I QUIT. I CAN'T WORK LIKE THIS!"

Zack: Dominates FPS games with pure chaotic energy, but he's not known for being the best, he's famous for having the most fun. His streams are full of "GUYS THIS IS THE BEST GAME EVER" while he's getting absolutely demolished, but his enthusiasm is so genuine that people tune in just to hear him lose his mind over cool weapons and character designs. He treats every match like it's the most exciting thing ever, win or lose.

Genesis: Lives for RPGs and narrative-heavy games. Famous for turning his streams into lore-heavy analysis sessions. He'll pause mid-game to give a 20-minute lecture about how this one side quest parallels Loveless. His viewers come for the games but stay for his deep-dives, obscure plot points, and how attractive he is.

Cloud: Queens Blood champion streamer, with regular tournament streams and strategy sessions. Famous for his call-in segment where players present their problems and he solves them while dealing with increasingly frustrated callers: "No, you can't just stack all your powerful cards in one deck. No—listen—no, that's not—*sigh* "Your strategy has more holes than the Sector 5 plate. Okay, we're going to start from the beginning, and this time try to pretend you've actually played a card game before."