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moonyasnow · 6 months ago

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Sleeping Beauty's Tentative Prince.

PROMPT : They kiss you in your sleep

CHARACTERS : Ace, Jack, Malleus, Sebek

CONTENT : fluff and angst, pre-relationship, they are PI-NING, the fae have…strange priorities. or maybe it's just Lilia in particular(Malleus' part), internalized racism (Sebek's part)

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I do NOT condone doing this in real life to someone who hasn't consented. But this is fiction so fuck it we ball

While you were awake, he could not show the affection to you that he wished he could, caught up in his own fears it might not be reciprocated and could strain your current relationship.

But in sleep, you would never know. In sleep, he could more easily deliberate upon his fondness for you, as much confusion, anxiety, fear, hope and longing as they brought him.

Ace

Ace Trappola portrayed himself as a 'coaster extraordinaire', gliding only where turf is smooth, dancing through life without a care in the world for anything besides goofing off with his friends. Stuff like 'love' and 'romance' wasn't on his radar, deciding he'd rather steer clear of it after an experience dating in middle school that left him feeling so utterly...bored, not really there, as having to live up to some ideal decided by his partner. Was that what all those books and songs and movies was hyping up? He felt lied to! It wasn't fun, and he couldn't understand how his now ex-girlfriend, or anyone else for that matter, really thought of any of that stuff as desirable!

The 'ghost bride', Eliza, was really just a personification of everything that made him want to steer clear of it. After she finally decided to shuffle off this mortal coil for good, along with her equally ghost— to Idia's utter relief— husband, too tired from all that fighting to really feel like it was worth it, he decided he'd rather crash at Ramshackle than walk all the way back to Heartlsabyul.

You declared you'd make it a sleepover, which was why he was laying in a sleeping bag on the musty living room floor of the ancient, decrepit house, creaking and groaning from the wind and its own whims. You laid next to him, on a mattress(unfair of you not to bring a second, by the way), sound asleep. He was kinda envious of you in that moment, you know?

Despite how dead tired he was after not only all the battle stuff but cleaning up the cafeteria on top of it, sleep just wouldn't bless him with its embrace. And desptire how much he didn't want to, especially not after all the other first-years— including Deuce, the bastard— made fun of him for the thought he'd already put into it...he found the topic of 'love' spinning around his head again.

He sure as hell didn't want the kind that Eliza'd idealized it to be. The others claimed that he, out of all the other suitors, did at least seem to know what he wanted. "...someone you can laugh with, and cry with...someone who'll stick with you through all the hard times..." He felt flustered and like an idiot recalling he'd said that for the entire room to hear, even more so due to the fact they'd caught on he was actually being genuine.

Then for some inexplicable reason he got an urge to turn his head to look at you. You looked about as tired as he felt. By that meaning you looked terrible. Or so he'd say if you were asking him why he was staring. Why was he staring? Probably because he was concerned. Just a little bit. Crowley already threw enough shit your way on the regular anyway, now you have to deal with this, too. And he never understood why you still tried so hard.

You, while not even having magic, had still given it your all during those battles, throwing rocks and twigs and even a goddamn wall-mounted candlestick— or well, that used to be wall-mounted, though apparently not as well as anyone thought they were if you could just pull it off the wall— at the ghosts. It phased right through them, obviously, but it'd annoyed and distracted them enough to make his and the others' job a whole lot easier. It was long past time for him to take back everything he said about you the first day you met by the school's Main Street.

You really had become an all-in-one janitor, photographer, therapist, and law-enforcer in one in the time you'd been here. It really wasn't fair. But you'd once told him it was easier since you had him and the rest of the braincell squad around. And he had to admit, it was the same for him. When it came to you in particular. Sure, he liked Deuce, and maybe Grim too just a little bit, but having you there was...special. He's not sure how he would've dealt with the incident at that one absolutely horrible unbirthday party and his Housewarden's total freak-out if you weren't there...or if, before it, he'd have had to spend the night in Ramshackle all alone with just the ghosts for company.

His eyes widened. Wait... He started to feel warm from top to bottom. He didn't mean it like— you weren't— y-you were just buds! You know? Friends. Just friends. And then he wanted to strangle someone when he realized those words tasted bitter in his mouth. Getting up on his elbow and looking at your sleeping face he couldn't place every thought whirring through his head. He thought you were kinda pretty or whatever, sure, but it's not weird to think your friend is pretty! And maybe...

No. Try as he might, every new excuse he came up with for why that couldn't be the case was just that; an excuse. He liked you. As more than just a friend. Maybe he kept trying to deny it because of how different this felt to his middle-school girlfriend. He thought she was cute and all, but he felt so alone when he was with her. Like she was seeing some boyfriend-shaped cut-out in place of him. He never felt alone when he was with you. And he sure as hell would never take a whole day's worth of public transport to school on a break for anyone else.

But it's not like he was planning for this. It felt strange, the way you went from 'best friend' to 'best friend I wanna be with' in his mind. Because, those categories weren't supposed to intersect, were they? Or could they? It just felt weird.

…But when he got past his initial shock, he realized that, thinking of you that way felt…natural. It was strange. Strange that it wasn't something he had to psyche himself up for. Maybe he was more like Eliza than he initially realized, in that way. Not noticing that kind of love when it was right in front of him. Maybe he'd also gotten caught up in that idealization of love, never realizing before that love actually could be with someone like that…someone he cherished like a best friend.

Laying down again and turning his whole body to face you properly, he stared at you. You really were pretty. Not in that way where you see someone and can just tell whether they're pretty or not. Not in the attraction kinda way either. Well, there might have been a little bit of that too. But mostly, there was just something...special, about you.

About your face, and your eyes, hair, shoulders, nose, chin, neck, hands and just— everything. Just looking at you made him feel warm. It usually did. But especially in that moment. It was weird, how just thinking those things seemed to jump-start his heart like some old motor, because now it was racing in the night. He found himself leaning closer, until his breath fanned at your lips. Looking at you from such a close proximity was weird. Sure, he might wrap an arm around or lean it on your shoulder pretty often, and do things like flick your forehead or your nose to see you pouting at him, but you'd never really been this close before. The tips of your noses were touching.

He was planning on moving away. He really was. But then you shifted in your sleep and your lips brushed softly against his.

As quickly as he could, he almost leapt backwards and turned his back to you and hoped to the Seven you didn't realize. Not then, not the next morning— not ever.

He closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep, and calm his racing heartbeat.

Sadly for him, he laid awake all night thinking about it and didn't get a lick of sleep.

He kinda hoped he could do it again one day. With you awake this time, of course. Yeah...with you, it might not be so bad. The Underworld would freeze over before he ever told you that though. Well, that was hyperbole. He just wanted to make sure you wouldn't like…laugh at him for it, or something.

…Maybe accidents weren't so bad sometimes.

Jack

Having grown up knowing that his parents, his grandparents, and most likely their parents and grandparents too, were mated for life— that they found each other and that was it— Jack Howl had always been sure that's how it would go for him too. That when he found 'the one' everything would be easy, and make sense instantly. And when he started to feel a strange new pressure in his chest around you, a desire to protect you more than even his other friends, he was sure that this was it. Yet something happened which he hadn't considered.

The person he fell for wasn't another wolf beastperson, nor any other kind of beastperson or mer who mated for life. You were human. And humans very much did not mate for life, as much as some might claim they would like to. For the first time he started to feel a bit of doubt about his future life plan. He was sure you were 'the one' for him… But now he had to start to contest with the fact that, he might not be 'the one' in your eyes.

So, he thought…he would try to court you in some way. Make it clear he could be a good partner for you.

During the second night at Vargas' training camp, when Grim hadn't returned from going to get blankets with the others, you had become so worried that you tried to run off to go looking for him. And Jack felt like he had no choice but to go with you; he would never risk you running into the shadow while alone. It definitely wasn't the smartest decision, and he had tried to stop you. But you had argued against him, insisting you wouldn't just leave Grim behind, no matter how much danger it put you in. That was something he had always respected about you; you always looked out for those in you pack. And he agreed to go with; he'd do the same for you— and then some— if you went missing, after all. But an hour of walking later, and you both realized that…you were lost. Now, not only was Grim gone, but those who remained at camp would think you both were gone, too.

You two had been walking for hours searching for the way back to no avail, when you had given up, swaying on your feet, saying you couldn't take another step. His eyes shot up in surprise, having been too caught up in getting you both back to camp to consider you didn't have anywhere near his levels of stamina, his ears flattening against his head with both guilt and a bit of embarrassment— guilt at not having realized you couldn't keep up, and embarrassment at not remembering the way back well enough. More like shame, really. He felt sure camp was the safest place for both of you right now, yet in his haste to follow you to make sure nothing jumped out at you, he'd neglected to keep good enough track of the scents around you both to be able to lead the way back. That wasn't how a good partner was supposed to behave! He was supposed to be able to make sure you were safe.

You were the one to suggest, with the night being so cold, that you sleep close to one another. He balked at the suggestion once it left your mouth, trying to hide the furious blush he knew would overtake his face if he let it— letting you see him like that would be way too embarrassing to consider; he was supposed to be cool! So you'd know he could protect you! Not act like some lovesi— o-overly affectionate— puppy! But when you reasoned that it was to conserve heat, to make sure neither of you ever became cold enough for it to be truly dangerous, he had no argument against it, and so was forced to go along with it. He didn't want you to freeze, after all. And no, don't misunderstand him! His tail did NOT just start wagging! And if it did, i-it was just nerves! N-not at being close to you— the shadow! NOT TO SAY HE COULDN'T TAKE ON THE SHADOW IF IT APPEARED—

He had to force himself to keep quiet, lest he put his foot in his mouth again.

He'd assumed you would just be sleeping next to each other. So when you slotted yourself right in his arms, your head on his chest, he froze in place, begging for dear life that you weren't hearing the way his heart was now racing. No matter if you did or not, you soon fell asleep. But Jack, like a protective guard dog (a comparison he didn't like but couldn't exactly deny at this moment) stayed awake for a while longer to make sure the area was truly safe, leading to him becoming lost in his thoughts.

He was confused why you were here at all. You weren't even part of a sports club! Or any club at all, for that matter; running errands for Crowley ate up too much of your time for you to be able to join one. But you were still here. You had claimed it was better than spending that time in school figuring out a way for a magicless student to succeed in magic assignments, Grim not often being fond of cooperating if there was no tuna involved, much to your frequent frustration. But it still really didn't sit right with him that you got caught up in all this when you were only meant to be there to take pictures. He thought Crowley should definitely compensate you for this, since you got caught in danger due to him making you go along with them. But by now he'd wised up enough to realize that was never going to happen. The thought began to really get on his nerves.

It was insane, how Crowley treated you like some slave with no mind or will of your own. Even worse, a disposable one he kept throwing at problems— dangerous problems...he still wasn't over how close you'd come to being seriously injured in the fight at the Mostro Lounge— that should have been CROWLEY'S job to handle. He almost began to growl just thinking about it. The mere thought of you, his m— friend...his good...friend...being hurt in the slightest scared him. Enough that his arms unconsciously tightened around you. The scent of your hair, a reminder you were currently not in danger, put him at ease. He exhaled in silent relief.

…If…

After you both graduate, if he asked you to come with him back to his home in the Shaftlands, what would you say? He'd be able to keep you safe. Make sure you never had to live like this again. What with your status as not being from this world and thus having no legal identifying paperwork, getting a job would probably be hard for you. So he'd get a job and support both you and him. And Grim, of course— if Grim was your pack, he was Jack's, too. He was already sure his family would love you, and welcome you with open arms. And then one day down the line he'd—

He couldn't bring himself to finish his thought, face having grown far too red. But his tail wouldn't stop wagging. He might have thought of it before, but that was when you weren't literally sleeping in his arms. You being so close just...made everything feel too real.

He took a deep breath to clear his mind. What mattered right now was that he would keep you safe. Take care of you. Now…and hopefully, you'd allow him to do the same in the future.

But the fuzzy, excited feelings brought on by the thought he didn't finish didn't leave him, them and your scent lulling him further into a comfortable sleepiness. So close to sleep and overflowing with affection, he didn't even notice, let alone have the sense to stop himself, from placing a kiss to your forehead, snuggling up closer to you to make sure you kept warm, unconsciously smiling against the top of your head as he, too, was claimed by sleep.

It just felt so...right, to hold you.

…The next morning you were confused by why he refused to look you in the eye.

Malleus

Malleus Draconia, crown prince and heir to the fae Kingdom of Briar Valley, was used to spending his time alone. Used to having only his guards and mentor for company. Used to spending hours wandering through empty stone hallways and rigorously up-kept gardens where none but he, his beloved gargoyles, and the occasional critter dared wander.

Perhaps that was because of him.

Though he came to Night Raven College to 'broaden his horizons', after the first few months or so of classes in which he was left to work alone even on group projects, smelling the fear of his peers in the air, he had all but given up on finding an actual friend. Someone who would stay by his side not out of duty or necessity, but purely out of desire to.

The way you haphazardly seemed to stumble into his life and make a home for yourself in his hollow ruin of solitude had still not caught up with him, even months later.

It was late in the evening, the old decrepit clock in Ramshackle had just struck 12. You were on the couch, leaning against him, asleep on his shoulder as he read a book. Or at least, he had been trying to. For all of five minutes. The soft pressure of your body leaning against his arm had made him lose all focus for anything not related to you. So here he was, staring like a fool at your sleeping figure.

That you, so small and fragile compared to him, were not afraid of the dragon by your side— the horned beast with power enough to destroy most of the school with less than a snap of his fingers— never ceased to amaze him. Yet it was on nights like these, when you were too tired to go for your usual evening walk with him yet still wanted him near, that left him most awestruck. Not only did you say, with your own words, that you wished to be by his side despite your lack of energy…you trusted him enough to fall asleep in his presence. Leaning against his shoulder, no less. It intoxicated his heart with pride, peace and longing in equal measure.

Yet, it only occurred to him the first time it happened that he had never seen another's sleeping face before. At least, not with their knowledge. He had seen you resting through your window on his late-night strolls before. Yet this was different. You allowed him this. If he did not already think you were the most beautiful thing his eyes had ever bore witness to, he did once he saw the gentle, peaceful expression on your face so close. He couldn't help but liken you to the sleeping princess in the old story of the Thorn Witch from his homeland. Sleeping so peacefully…all whilst leaning against a dragon.

His heart ached with feelings he had no words for as he stared at your face, streaked with moonlight, book long since forgotten. Cupping your cheek, he cursed the leather gloves keeping him from truly feeling your skin. In the back of his mind he harbored a fear he dare not put into words: that were he to feel your skin against his, it would be a point of no return, and he would never be able to go without it again. A curse to one such as him, who— his logic was much too aware for his liking— would be forced to grow accustomed to losing the touch of all things in time.

Yet his emotions, not bound by logic of any kind, wondered if you would like that. If him discarding his inhibitions and letting his gloveless hands roam every inch of your body would delight you the same way the mere thought did him. One part of him told him that 'yes, you would'; he was the fae prince, one of the most talented mages alive. He could keep you safe, give you anything you could ever desire. Yet another part of him said 'perhaps not' with barely any hesitation. He was a dragon, feared by man and fae alike for his power which could wipe out whole nations, should he desire to. The conflicting answers left him with a confusing sense of whiplash, not knowing which to trust. Yet, since you were not, unlike many, afraid of him, he found himself hoping your answer would fall more in line with the former…

Heart filled with trepidation and yearning in conflict with one another, he searched his mind for that always comforting anchor of knowledge that was Lilia's words. All that came to mind regarding the matter of kisses was that 'it was not to be done once the sun had set', which to him was good enough reason to force himself to abstain. Or at least, so he'd hoped. He wished to listen to his mentor's words, clung to them when his own young mind felt overcome with what he wished to do instead of what he ought to do…yet found he could not. At least, not fully.

Holding your warm hand in his which was cold beneath his gloves, the heat still slowly seeping from yours to his, yours appeared so small. As Malleus resisted the urge to rub his nose against yours, he felt his pulse beat in his throat. A metaphorical fire lit in the candle of his heart, flaring higher as he slowly neared your lips.

At the last second he managed to force himself to place his gloved hand gently over your mouth, placing a light, chaste kiss to the back of it.

He yearned to traverse further, to not have this self-imposed barrier in his way, to truly know if your lips were as soft as he imagined them to be, if they tasted as sweet. It was difficult to draw a line for himself. But, despite pouting through it, he still did. Once more recalling Lilia's words of wisdom: it would be impolite to steal your first kiss— or at least, so Malleus assumed it was— without your knowledge, after all.

After that he made up his mind to keep himself in check. That was enough for tonight, he thought and tried to return to his book. But his thoughts never stopped drifting to you.

It equally unsettled and enthralled him.

Sebek

The son of a human father and a fae mother— a fae mother who went entirely against the norms and expectations of her people and culture to marry a human man, a man whose people had hurt hers, and whose union with her had barely been accepted, much less understood— to say that Sebek Ziegvolt feels many conflicting emotions interacting with humans would be an understatement.

He, having seen the scorn his parents' union brought his mother, had vowed as a young child that he would 'never be stupid enough to choose to marry a human'. For he, at his young age, fully believed it was something he had control over. And he still did well into his teens, Lilia's explanation that love cared not for what people had decided, while he admired, revered and respected the older fae greatly, was still not quite enough to persuade him that there could ever be a possibility of him, Sebek Ziegvolt, proud knight of the Lord Malleus Draconia, deigning to fall for a mere human. He couldn’t understand the appeal in any way, shape or form. Human were weak. Fae— he— were strong.

What use had the strong for the weak?

But when you saw him freezing in the cold winter air, you wrapped your scarf around him. He, predictably, began to chastise you, claiming through a runny nose that as a human you were weaker than he and that he could handle this cold, and would not lose to mere weather— which was evidently not the case, as his own words were cut off by a big sneeze, to which you simply laughed. What nerve you had, he thought, for you, a mere human, to laugh at him, Sebek Ziegvolt. To laugh at his weakness! But his thoughts stopped dead in their tracks when you removed the hand covering your mouth and he saw your smile. It was...dazzling. A depiction of beauty which he had only heard described before.

In his daze he almost missed you taking a napkin out of your pocket and wiping away the mess under his nose, still smiling at him the same way.

Though he chided you, claiming to not need it, he was powerless to stop the stutter in his heart at your gesture. The tip of your finger grazed his jaw for a fraction of a second as you withdrew your hands, and it haunted his dreams for weeks. And the gentle smile on your face, showing, as far as he knew, nothing but sincere care for him, was enough to make him feel as though he didn't need the scarf at all.

It was...dizzying.

He saw his displays of weakness as just that: weakness, not vulnerability. In his eyes he must not have either to be able to be a good, no, even passable knight to his Young Master! Deep down he knew his Lord Malleus was already strong enough to not really need a knight. But he could never shake the worry it was on him, that he didn't need a knight because Sebek wasn't knightly enough. That was why he worked so hard. His position, with Lord Malleus, in life, had to mean something. Make him mean something.

But you never seemed to care for how he thought of it, showing him small gestures of kindness over and over again. In time he found he had begun to expect those small gestures, despite how he might still had insisted they were unnecessary. That you continued them despite his insistence...warmed him, just like when you lent him your scarf— which he always returned to you each day, knowing you would wrap it around him again the next.

At first he was sure you must have bewitched him, cast some manner of curse upon him— forgetting the fact that you, as magicless, would not be capable of such a feat— for he could find no other logical explanation for what the feeling of full-body lightness and heart-stuttering you brought upon him could be. At least...none he wanted to listen to; none that made sense to him.

You were human.

What he could never let himself be.

And he, the knight of Malleus Draconia, couldn't make the same strange choice as his mother, no matter how highly he respected her.

Yet whether he wished to or not, they'd taken hold of him, struck his heart like lightning, leaving a permanent mark of you on his very being.

It was shortly after that incident that he had, one evening, come to Ramshackle in search of Lord Malleus, and instead found you on one of the Dorm's benches, looking moments away from sleep. For a moment, thoughts of his search for his liege left his mind. When he asked what you were doing out alone this late at night, interrogating you like you'd broken some kind of curfew Ramshackle didn't have, you smiled and said you were waiting for Malleus to go on your usual evening stroll with him. Something about that gave him a sour feeling in his chest. For you or for Lord Malleus, he couldn't say.

Huffing, he said he might as well wait with you. You said nothing at that, just smiled and patted the spot next to you. Reluctantly, he did.

You sat in silence for a while, him trying to ignore the way so many feelings he couldn't figure out the meanings of stung at his chest. He was so caught up in his mind that it was only once he'd finally figured out something to say to you and took a deep breath that he realized his shoulder felt heavier, and he looked over to see you leaning against it, sound asleep. He was about to begin to scold you for falling asleep while waiting for his Young Master! It was bad enough his Lord Malleus had to endure the tardiness of Silver on acount of the latter's propensity for falling into slumber at any given moment! But when he looked at your face again, the words, for once, froze in his throat and fizzled away.

The way your mouth was left slightly agape, leaving a small trail of drool running down your chin, really should have appalled him, been seen as something pathetic, left him feeling distaste of some kind. But when you'd still smiled at him when he had snot running from his nose, how could he?

Maybe it was fine to…let you sleep. You didn't fall asleep like this often anyway…

As gently as he could, so as not to wake you, he lifted your body up and sat you in his lap, shifting and angling himself to allow your legs to still hang over the edge of the bench, now exchanged for his legs. He looked up at your sleeping expression in reverence, bringing his thumb to wipe away your drool. In his other hand he took yours, which had been hanging limply at your side. With his other arm around your waist to keep you from tipping over, he leaned his head, cheeks burning, against your shoulder, yours falling atop his as he did.

Closing his eyes, he pressed a tender kiss to the back of your hand.

His heart fluttered with a novel tenderness...yet not one he found he minded. He would guard you as you slept. Care for you in your 'weakness', just as you had him in his.

To love a human might not be something he was yet capable of. But, if you would extend to him the same, not a half-fae, but him...

...he might be able to love you.

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First of all I just want to say: Thank you thank you thank you SO MUCH to everyone who engaged at all with my last (and first) writing post! > <

Knowing people like my writing was such a massive motivation-boost to me! I tend to struggle with perfectionism and feeling like my writing isn't good enough by my own standards, so all that stuff is very, very appreciated!

I also wanna say sorry if any of them seemed OOC— aside from Malleus, I don't feel as confident in writing these characters as I do for the characters in my first post, since I don't know them as well yet. A big thank you to @yuurei20 for their TWST character fact sheets (found here) for the help! And also to the people who contribute to the the English TWST wiki!

Lastly: A reminder if you didn't already know, that I do, in fact, take requests! Coming up with WHAT to write is usually the hardest part for me; when I get past that I have a blast! ^^

...Also I think doing the research for this has skyrocketed Sebek up my 'favorite TWST characters' list because damn. That's rough, buddy. And honestly same in a way. His part was definitely my favorite to write.

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hamliet · 3 months ago

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Love is Life, and Also Unpredictable

The Decameron is a brilliant, beautiful show that deserves way more praise than the lukewarm reviews. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a love story so beautiful and characters who subverted expectations in the most satisfying ways.

Every time you think a character is an unforgivable lout, you'll be surprised at how human they'll be. The character you think is a buffoon and whom you wish would die because they're THAT level of annoying ends up making you bawl with their words a single episode later, and it still feels in character.

I dunno, the show has pretty mixed reviews, but if you like dark humor and a study on humanity, this show is for you. Also, if you like love stories of any sort, because this show contains several of the single most unique love stories I could have ever imagined. Yes, including queer and... ace love.

*yes i have read boccaccio's work on which it's based

Spiritual, Agape Love: Neifile and Panfilo

I genuinely think the sexless marriage and partnership of a gay man and a devout, neurotic straight woman is one of the most beautiful love stories I've seen in media, ever. They genuinely want each other to be happy, and they aren't content just being each other's "beard" or financial security. They want to know each other more. They want honesty. They want to be together and to have intimacy, just not romantic or sexual.

The scene where they reconcile in front of Ruggiero is stunningly wholesome and--dare I say it--pure.

The scene where Neifile falls in the well and waits for God to save her is clearly a riff on the classic parable of the guy who is drowning and turns down two boats and a helicopter rescue saying "no thanks, God will save me," only to die and get to heaven and cry, "God, why didn't you save me?" Then God replies, "you dumbass, I sent you two boats and a helicopter!"

Neifile is rescued because her husband Panfilo pays someone to rescue her and to tell her God sent a vision telling them where to find Neifile. When she finds out Panfilo orchestrated it, she's furious about him deceiving her. But the reality, we later realize, is that he didn't exactly. Neifile wanted proof God still cared about her. He sent her a husband who loved her so much he would do anything to save her.

Neifile's faith isn't perfectly written, but it's not mocked. In the end, Neifile and Panfilo live like Christ--which is to say, they save their friends even though they die. Neifile dies afraid, but life comes with no guarantees. It's unpredictable, just like love. And after her death, Panfilo seems to lose the will to live--but when he decides to sacrifice his life to die alongside Neifile, it's not so much out of a desire to die as it is out of a desire to have his friends survive. And it's not a coincidence that the foe they face off with is a self-proclaimed prophet who's really a cruel, hypocritical cult leader. Neifile's dead, plague-ridden body is more holy than the cult leader's sword.

Romantic/Eros Love: Misia and Filomena, Tindaro and Stratilia, (and everyone)

Everyone has romantic love and/or a sexual relationship in the story. Everyone has a "pairing," but it is seldom their most important bond.

Dioneo and Licisca

Filomena and Misia

Pampinea and Sirisco

Tindaro and Stratilia

Neifile and Panfilo/Ruggiero

Panfilo and Neifile/Andreoli

The two that are the most important here are Misia and Filomena, and Tindaro and Stratilia. Yet they are both quite unique portrayals as well, because while Misia and Filomena's love is requited, Tindaro's loev for Stratilia is completely unrequited. Yet, its power still shines through.

Tindaro's love for Stratilia is utterly unrequited and stays that way. However, his love for her is nonetheless real and he proves it over and over, and it isn't dependent on her returning it. His determination to love her, no matter what she does or doesn't give him, is honestly a beautiful exploration of unrequited love. Usually in fiction unrequited love is either someone wasting their time or a tragedy.

Rarely does unrequited love have power to redeem and save, but here it does. It motivates Tindaro to change himself for the better and to become the best version of himself, and it saves Stratilia's life and the life of her son.

Yet, the story avoids any kind of iffy subtext about sex corrupting love. Misia and Filomena get a happily ever after (the only pairing in the series that does), but Tindaro's love for Stratilia, which literally starts as hate sex and stays that way for her, redeems Tindaro. So the show avoids saying that sex is all that love is, and avoids the implication that sex ruins love as well.

Familial Love: Licisca and Filomena, Stratilia and Jacopo

The series addresses sibling love in a variety of ways. Filomena and Licisca are clearly sisters long before we get the official reveal that Licisca is actually Filomena's half-sister in blood. And even when we see them fighting and pushing each other off a bridge (literally), they love each other. They can't bear to see each other die, even as they peck at each other and insult each other constantly.

Filomena: Licisca, you saved me again! Licisca: Yeah, you dumb bitch. Love's got long claws.

Truly, a sister exchange right there.

What gets in the way of their familial relationship is class. The series juxtaposes class issues against familial ones quite a bit. Leonardo, for example, we never meet, but the way he treats Stratilia and Jacopo (his son) is pretty terrible.

And yet, Jacopo has a good life. Stratilia loves him, even though he is the reason she can never leave the villa, marry, or have any sort of life of her own. She knows Leonardo never plans to have Jacopo as an heir or treat him as a son in any way, but she loves him and sticks around for him, and doesn't resent him for it. And he in turn adores his mother and wants to protect her. Love is a burden, as Panfilo says directly, but so is life. Love anchors.

What gets in the way of love for this mother and son, temporarily, is again class. Not for herself, but for her son, Stratilia eventually decides to take the villa since Leonardo is dead and Jacopo is the rightful heir. But clinging to class and material possessions in this series never ends well.

When Stratilia realizes her desire to seize the villa in the name of justice for her son will likely get them all killed, she cries and blames herself for their coming deaths.

As Tindaro says:

Stratilia: I failed my son Tindaro: No. You have given him everything. And love most of all. He is blessed. You understand that Jacopo? You are blessed.

In other words, love doesn't have to be perfect. It can involve major screwups and pain, but that doesn't mean the life they had or the love was any less powerful.

Also of note: the whole reason the peasants turn to mercenaries and cults is because the rich lock themselves away from the poor, when in reality they are all humans. You can't counter acts of God (or, y'know, rats) but where humans do have power, in all the terrible hands life slaps them with, is the ability to love each other and help each other. While this sounds cheesy, the juxtaposition of this idea with a black comedy plague setting actually makes it shine.

The Loveless: Pampinea

At the start of the story, there are two buffoons: Tindaro and Pampinea.

Tindaro is misogynistic and pathetic, and Pampinea is equally insufferable but more sympathetic because her insufferable tendencies are clearly driven by her status as an unmarried woman in a patriarchal, misogynistic society.

Yet Pampinea has all of these kinds of love, and can't accept any of them. Sirisco loves her and thinks she is beautiful. She not only pushes him away, but is cruel in doing so. She has the respect of Neifile and Licisca. She has unrequited loyalty and love from Misia, and uses it to manipulate Misia into killing Ruggiero for her (and the irony is that Misia, who is traumatized from killing Ruggiero, then kills Pampinea).

Pampinea is a well-written villain, imo. You love to hate her, but you also see her humanity. The way she treats Misia, though, is increasingly horrifying, and their relationship foils Tindaro and Dioneo's, Filomena and Licisca's, and Leonardo's and Stratilia's/Sirisco's.

In fact, Filomena even directly acknowledges that she's no better than Pampinea for how she's treated Licisca. Tindaro doesn't get the chance to have that realization about Dioneo while Dioneo is alive, but he does give him a decent burial when he definitely didn't have to. And, there's an aspect of tragedy there too--Dioneo did care about Tindaro, but Tindaro's inability to show any kind of care for Dioneo while he lived means that he doesn't realize that Dioneo did in fact find love in the end, though he acknowledges that this was what Dioneo did primarily want in life.

In contrast, Pampinea has chance after chance after chance to choose differently, to choose a single bond, and she doesn't. She also recognizes that her servant wants love more than anything, just like Tindaro and Dioneo, but instead of using that to honor them, she uses it to degrade and manipulate Misia.

Bad Victims and Toxic Love: Misia and Pampinea

Misia is a bad victim. It takes forever for her to realize she's being abused and even longer to accept it. She does in fact murder someone for her mistress, and she keeps going back to Pampinea even when it means essentially betraying Filomena, whom she romantically loves. When she asks for help, she pushes the people she's asked away.

Eventually, the only way she sees to free herself is to kill Pampinea, because love for Pampinea is a way to cage someone rather than a way to set them free. Pampinea's already introduced the idea of killing for love, so it's not really a surprise when this comes back to bite Pampinea and she is killed.

Yet the story doesn't demonize Misia for this. It shows how damn difficult it is to free oneself from an abuser, and how genuine the love for an abuser can be. In fact, the victim can often not even realize they're being abused and taken advantage of.

Furthermore, Misia's abuse doesn't make her a better person. Most people tend to assume that victims cry and wait for rescue, but that's not realistic. Victims lash out and can sometimes have a massive cognitive dissonance, as demonstrated in the show when Misia begs Sirisco for help and then blames him for Ruggiero's death when he calls her out on Pampinea's abuse of her.

Even Misia killing Pampinea isn't portrayed as a moral positive. It's tragic, but it also doesn't have to destroy Misia's future. Filomena loves her and forgives her, and that love can tether Misia to life despite her having two murders under her belt.

Sirisco also goes down a bad path, similar to Misia. He brings misery and problems to the villa in his outage over Pampinea's treatment of him. Yet he does repent after he sees that his actions have directly led to the deaths of the peasants who treat him well, and he survives.

#hamliet reviews #the decameron #panfilo #neifile #filomena #misia #licisca #tindaro #sirisco #pampinea #stratilia #jacopo

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overdecorated-furniture · 9 months ago

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Dead Parents - How to avoid them.

We are all very familiar with the notion of dead parents in fiction. For example, Harry Potter’s parents are dead before the first book even starts. Or in Portrait of Dorian Gray, the protagonist is brought up by an absentee and very neglectful grandfather. It’s a trope used again and again. And it does kind of work. It certainly allows your young protagonists the opportunity to gain agency and find their own way in the adventure thrown at them. But it’s also rather predictable. As a reader, we don’t sympathise as much because it’s such a used trope.

So, here are some of my thoughts about how to avoid the dead parents trope, and still propel your characters into the action.

Kill Someone Else.

I know, violence isn’t supposed to be the answer. But characters don’t only have close relationships with their parents. If your plot centres around a revenge quest for a dead loved one, it doesn’t have to be a parent.

Siblings who got caught in the crossfire trying to protect your MC, or an aunt/uncle they were close to being poisoned works just as well. Best friends are also a useful source of grief, and the fact it’s someone outside the family perhaps gives your MC more of a push. Equally, a significant other may work, although that is a used trope too. It might even just be a beloved pet.

Use their Morals.

People in the real world do not simply act out of revenge for the death of a loved one. Character morals can be just as powerful a motive for action, and Young people in particular are just beginning to discover what matters to them, and so it feels at its most important.

Perhaps your MC feels that the magic system in your fantasy world does not allow for people with disabilities to have access, and so uses that as their springboard. Or in an apocalypse setting, the desire to protect fellow humans against a threat may act as the MC’s launch pad for setting up a safe base somewhere. Concerns over equality, safety, climate change, government choices and even things as small as how cereal is marketed can motivate a character into changing their world/current situation.

Create Conflict.

Arguments, breakups, scrappy fistfights with someone in a back alley. Conflict is one of the spokes of a story, as it creates opportunities for moving the plot forward, and can hold the characters back from achieving their aims. Using this to start your character’s story arc makes for an explosive scene, and allows immediate sympathy with the situation they are in. Everyone argues, has had someone they care about walk out of their lives, or has at least been punched, so the familiarity of a minor but important conflict helps the reader associate with the character, as well as setting up any skills the character has or may need in order to defeat the foe at the climax of the story.

Parental Encouragement.

In a good family situation, parents will want to support their children and young people in achieving their goals. And the same can be true in stories. Perhaps your character wants to learn to play hockey, for example. Their parents can very easily encourage them to join a practice group, help them buy kit, and encourage them to play in matches. Having a supportive adult can mean as much to an MC as having said support removed, and although this doesn’t work for epic fantasy revenge quests, it does create a welcoming atmosphere for a reader.

Those are the main ones I can think of off the top of my head. Do add in comments/tags any you know of!

Happy writing!🌿

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #creative writing #wip stuff #writing advice #writing tropes #writer’s musings

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 4 months ago

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When I first saw a Miraculous Ladybug salt post it was the usual Lila takes away all of Marinette's friends Adrien does nothing Marinette becomes super successful Lila gets exposed blah blah blah

When I see posts like the ones you post where people give actual constructive criticism about the characters and not favor one character over the other has made me realize that these are fictional characters and its not their fault they are the way they are. Also they're 14 what kind of 14 year old makes good choice's? Especially when they have the fate of the world/universe on their shoulders

If anything the character I really blame is Master Fu. He was obviously meant to be some sort of mentor figure for them or at least Marinette's mentor. He was the one to tell and encourage Marinette to keep everything a secret from Adrien. Comparing him to other mentor like figures in the world of superheros he isn't really all that helpful.

Compared to DC Ladybug and Chat Noir do not have any adult superheros to help them. In DC younger superheros have entire superhero families to help them out and if not that than they have other adult superheros to help them or they have an actual team. We know that other miraculous holders exist and the order is back I have a vague idea as to why they can't help but I still find it weird as to why they are around if not to help. Like phones and the internet exist do they not?

Sorry for they rant, I want to know what your thoughts are on this?

Your rant was fine! I don't think that I've talked in depth about mentors as a concept and I should both because I love mentors and because Miraculous has completely failed to give us any good ones. This is a writing failure not because good mentors are required, but because the show chose to have mentors characters and then not use them.

Before I get into the topic at large, I want to start with a brief discussion of mentors in shows aimed at young children as Miraculous' intended audience is young children and that fact is worth keeping in mind when discussing what Miraculous did wrong and some of the ways that you can fix it.

Shows aimed at kids generally avoid adult characters in major roles for the very obvious reason that the intended audience is kids, so you want the kid and teen characters to be the stars. This doesn't mean that adults aren't allowed to save the day or have important roles. It just means that they should be used sparingly. This is why mentors are a great addition to kids shows. They allow adult characters to be deeply involved with the plot without anyone expecting them to intervene because that's not their role in the story. They're not here to be the hero. They're here to guide the hero.

One of the powerful things about this setup is that it allows the writers to give the real kids watching at home real advice about real life problems. For example, if Marinette comes to Fu to talk about feeling alone and overwhelmed, then he can give her real, practical advice that would apply to anyone who is feeling alone and overwhelmed, but no one expects him to directly intervene because he's supposed to say hidden.

A lot of these elements apply to mentors in media aimed at older audiences, the rules just apply for different reasons, so I'm going to stop reminding you that Miraculous is for elementary school kids and focus on the failed mentor issue as it would be an issue no matter what Miraculous' intended audience was.

When it comes to bad mentoring, a lot of people focus on Fu and I get why. At first glance, he's the classic wise old Asian man who is supposed to be there to guide the protagonist on her mystical journey (not getting into the racism issue here, just know that I'm aware of it and that Miraculous dropped the ball on this in a lot of ways even though they absolutely could have made it work.) But Fu isn't the main focus of my ire because, while the writers seemed to have designed him around the mystic Asian trope, they never actually wrote him like a mentor.

He doesn't train Marinette and Adrien in the ways of the miraculous. He just sneakily gives them their miraculous and then disappears from their lives for quite some time. So he's not around to get them properly started on their hero journey. That's strike one for the mentor role.

Strike two is the fact that we never actually see him mentoring Marinette. I don't think that she ever went to him for advice? If she did, then it wasn't a big element of their relationship. When I think of Marinette and Fu, I picture her going to him to grab a miraculous or two before booking it back to the ongoing fight and that's about it. The guardian training she supposedly had was all off screen, so we have no idea how close they were or what he even taught her outside of potion making. Even that wasn't really him teaching her something. It was them working together to figure out a puzzle because Fu never completed his own training, making it impossible for him to properly train a successor.

Strike three is the fact that - outside of the King Monkey incident - Fu never gets directly involved in helping team miraculous. He's never gives them feedback on fights or works with Ladybug and Chat Noir to strengthen their bond. He doesn't even help them track down the two missing miraculous or hand out the temporary miraculous on Marinette's behalf, a choice I still find super weird. "This fight is super hard and we need help, so I'm going to leave Chat Noir to fight alone while I go get said help!" is absolutely nonsense logic and one of the many examples of the writers desperately needing to let Marinette hand her responsibilities off. Why wasn't this Fu's job?

This brings us to fix one: if you want the guardian to be a mentor - which is a role they arguably should have - then the guardian needs to be actively involved in Marinette and Adrien's lives in an on screen way. For this to work in the context of Miraculous - a show that really wants to focus on the teen characters - then the guardian probably needs a teenage apprentice who isn't Marinette and that apprentice will be the one doing the mentoring.

My pick for this is Luka for two big reasons. The first one is that his calm personality is perfectly suited to a mentor. The second one is that it seems insane to me to have the snake be a temp holder. The snake should be watching every fight, but staying out of the actual fight so that they can use their power whenever it's needed. That's the perfect role for a mentor character to fill. Someone who is active in the plot, but only ever as a support because their power stops them from getting more involved.

Moving on to the bigger issue.

As I said up above, Fu doesn't actually get my ire. While I wanted him to be a mentor, he never once filled that role and he didn't really need to because the show already had mentor figures that it was actively using and using poorly. Those figures are the ancient magical creatures that follow our heroes around, dispensing terrible advice whenever they feel like it. That's right, as much as it pains me, Miraculous' biggest mentor failures are Tikki and Plagg.

The miraculous did not need to have magical creatures associated with them. They could have just been magical jewelry that Fu handed out and explained. Instead, the writers chose to give us the Kwamis and I don't disagree with that choice. I like the Kwmais! The problem is that they're used in the most lackluster, asinine ways you possibly could.

The Kwamis are not presented as oblivious to the world and unable to give advice. They give lots of advice! The problem is that advice tends to suck! I can think of many examples of times where the Kwamis made everything worse, but let's look at the one that grinds my gears the most: Plagg's actions in season four.

In Rocketear - the episode where Nino gives Adrien an incredibly inaccurate picture of why he knows Alya's secret identity - we get this:

Adrien: I still can't believe Ladybug entrusted Alya and Nino with those Miraculous. Plagg: Of course she did. She's the Guardian. Adrien: But they're a couple and they know each other's secret identities. Plagg: So...? Adrien: So, why does she make it a rule that we can't know each other's identities but it's okay for them? Plagg: She's the Guardian, the Grandmaster Cheese Ripener, and you and I are just cheese on the platter. She decides what's on the menu.

Hey, Plagg, maybe don't tell your clearly upset and vulnerable teenage holder to just suck it up and deal with it when he's feeling alone and betrayed? Maybe encourage him to talk to Ladybug about his feelings so that he can get the full story? Knowing that they learned their identities during the Scarlet Moth incident would probably do a lot to smooth over Adrien's hurt feelings.

What's even more rich is that the episode Kuro Neko lets Plagg go off on Marinette for not appreciating Chat Noir:

Ladybug: What's gotten into him? I didn't do anything. Plagg: Didn't do anything? Well yeah, you did! You've been neglecting a very classy piece of camemebert on your plate for too long! And as a result it got runny, and moldy! Ladybug: What? Cat Noir never gave me any camembert. Plagg: Of course not, Cat Noir is the camembert! For a while now, you've been neglecting this camembert— I mean Cat Noir, and going on adventures with the all other cheeses! Ladybug: But he should be happy about it, it gives him more time off. Plagg: Cat Noir doesn't wanna have time off, Ladybug! He is in love with you! And your persistent calling on all the other heroes has broken his heart.

Dude, if you saw all of this going on, then why didn't you say something??? You and Tikki are in the same location for multiple hours five days a week. Go tell her how your holder is feeling and figure out how to fix the situation! Or be an actual mentor and encourage Adrien to talk to someone about his feelings! At the very least, cut up a wheel of cheese, sit down, and listen to your kid so that he feels less alone!

Also what exactly do you want Ladybug to do to fix the problem you presented? Let Paris burn until Chat Noir decides to show up to today's fight? Refuse to use the temp heroes even if it means losing a fight? None of those are valid solutions when the problem presented in the episode is Chat Noir missing fights. Especially when we know that he's doing it on purpose. Why are you yelling at her instead of working with her to come up with an actual solution? You are such a terrible mentor...

To be clear, I don't think any of this is intentional. I don't think the writers want Plagg and Tikki to come across as actively hurting their teenage charges via bad advice. I think Plagg and Tikki are supposed to be seen as good and helpful, but they can't fill that role because they're tools of the narrative and the narrative has really wacky views on what good advice is. Thus nonsense like the example I discussed above or Plagg and Tikki picking new holders instead of guiding their holders through an identity reveal.

I personally adore letting Plagg and Tikki be good mentors in my own stuff. It falls under the same category as Alya and Nino being terrible friends on screen. I acknowledge the problem and then delight in fixing it by writing the exact opposite setup because what is fanfiction for if not heavy self indulgence?

#ml writing critical #ml writing salt #anon ask #Tikki deserves better #Plagg deserves better #I love writing Plagg #I know so much about cheese from figuring out how to dispense advice via cheese metaphors #It's great #mentor salt

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howtofightwrite · 1 year ago

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I love picking at plot holes like scabs so i want my fight scenes to be as realistic as possible. However. There’s a creature in my head that says a buster sword is SICK AS HELL. What modifications would it need to be even remotely wieldable while still keeping its central appeal (huge sword big blade cool and sexy) intact?

You’ve made a mistake. You mistook suspension of disbelief for realism. This is a common problem that gets in the way of a lot of fantasy and sci-fi authors. So, don’t worry. It isn’t just you. However, realism vs believability is where your hangup is. Stories don’t need to be realistic to be believable.

The quick and dirty (and possibly unhelpful) answer is to create a world that justifies your buster sword, not a buster sword that’s trying to justify itself in a world that doesn’t want it. You step back from the sword itself and away from a world where reality dictates that it’s too heavy, too clumsy, too slow, and ask yourself: “in what type of world does this thing make sense?” And there’s about a billion different ways to create that.

The hangup with the realistic argument is that all of fiction is a lie. Good or bad, that’s what stories are. They can be very compelling, addicting, manipulative, feel incredibly good, and still be fake. The goal of a creator isn’t just to create stories that are believable, but for your audience to want to believe in them. Storytelling is always a joint venture between you and your reader. You are the salesperson asking your audience to come along for the ride. To keep their attention, you’ve got to spin up a good yarn. Build trust. The world has to feel right, but it doesn’t have to be right. Reasonable, not right. The goal is to take a cool idea and work backwards to how your society got here so that when seen from an outside perspective, the choice ultimately looks like a reasonable conclusion given the surrounding context. One of the better ways to build your reasonable conclusions is by studying the history of technological invention from the beginning to the midpoint rather than starting with the end point—the results.

History is full of weird, wacky, wild attempts and failures at creation. You’re not the first person to look at a human sized sword and wonder if it could, in fact, hit good. Or, really, better than swords that currently exist. Or, fulfill a battlefield role the sword was currently not occupying. Or, as we like to say, have real battlefield applications. The Claymore, the Zwhihander, the Zhanmadao are all real weapons that saw real, if not necessarily extensive, use. Like all weapons, they were specialized tools meant for particular battlefield uses. In this case, mainly as anti-cavalry support.

Ask yourself, why? Not just, why would I want it? Ask, why would I use it?

What actual purpose does the big cool blade serve beyond looking big and cool? What function does it fill on the battlefield? Why use the big cool blade instead of other weapons? What does it do better? What are some offsets which might account for the massive size? Technology? Superhuman enhancements, mystical or otherwise? Gravitic fields? Magic? Why is the big cool blade better suited to ensuring a character’s survival? What advantages does it provide? What is its practical value to warriors within your setting?

The initial defensive reaction is that we don’t need a reason because we have the Rule of Cool. That could be the reason, but I challenge you to go deeper. Go deeper than, “this was the weapon my character was trained to use.” The followup question is: why were they trained to use it?

In the real world, we can answer these questions both from a personal and from a larger social perspective. We may not be able to answer whether we’d use a gun, but we understand why humanity developed guns, why we use guns, and the purpose they serve both for personal protection and in their military applications. The answers don’t necessarily need to be good or smart. What matters is that an answer exists to feed your audience. When your reader starts struggling to believe, they begin to ask questions, they pick at the fabric of the narrative trying to figure out why their mind has rejected the story they were previously enjoying. What we, the writer, want to create is a chain of logic underpinning the narrative and its world. This way, when questions are asked, a reasonable answer is ready and waiting. While we won’t win over everyone, trust that your audience wants to believe. Trust that they’re smart enough to figure it out without being spoon fed. That way, you won’t fall into the trap of infodumping.

Worldbuilding always involves a lot more happening under the surface than ever makes it onto the page. Your characters will be the ones to demonstrate and act on the internal logic that’s been created for them without needing a billion questions to lead us from Point A to Point B.

If we look at human history in a wide view, we find that weapons are a fairly steady march forward that matches a civilization’s technological growth. We keep what works and discards what doesn’t. The crossbow replaced the bow as the main form of artillery in martial combat, but we still kept the bow. The bow still had practical applications. Guns eventually replaced the crossbow just like they replaced the sword, but it actually took a very long time. We had functional firearms in the Middle Ages.

Ease of Use

Ease of Training

Lethality

From a military standpoint, these are the three most important aspects for widespread adoption of any weapon. Easy to use. Easy to train. Lethal. The longer it takes to train a soldier on a weapon the more time your army is losing out on using that soldier and the more effective the weapon needs to be in order to justify its expense. Why give your soldier a big cool sword if they’ll never get close enough to reach the forward line to make the assault? Why have them use the big cool sword if operating the laser cannon is more efficient, effective, and keeps them alive longer? In the coldness of battlefield calculus, it’s often better to have cheap, efficient units rather than more expensive ones that might be more lethal but take longer to produce. No matter how good they are, you’re eventually going to lose them. Therefore, easy replaceability becomes a factor.

If you can answer those questions (and the myriad of other similar ones) you won’t just have a weapon, you’ll have a world. You’ll have more than a justification, you’ll have battlefield strategy, tactics, and a greater understanding of how the average layman characters in your setting beyond your main character approach warfare and possibly a technological history. You might even have several functional armies.

Ultimately, this is a game of value versus cost. Most settings that use big cool swords sacrifice ease of use and ease of training to amp up lethality. The weapon having a specialized function or only being usable by a specialized unit helps if that unit’s battlefield effectiveness is justified. Or, you could just have a weird technological outlier where its effectiveness doesn’t quite justify its cost even if the individual warrior is effective. A good example of this is in shounen anime where one character has a specialty that no one else has, a really cool, effective weapon that never appears anywhere else, because the length of training, high skill floor, and finicky nature of its use make it difficult to justify widespread adoption.

The danger is assuming there’s a right answer. There isn’t one. The value in learning the rules of real world violence is so you can break them. This way you can tell the difference between the vital rules necessary for suspending disbelief and don’t accidentally break the ones you needed to keep your audience invested.

-Michi

This blog is supported through Patreon. Patrons get access to new posts three days early, and direct access to us through Discord. If you’re already a Patron, thank you. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #michi answers #how to fight write

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komsomolka · 1 month ago

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In your esteemed opinion, is Mikhail Bulgakov actually a good writer or is he more in the Orwell end of the spectrum: popular for anti-soviet sentiment (despite clear disdain for women and working class) his works are heavy on?

Bulgakov was definitely a talented writer so much so that he was tolerated by Soviet power despite reactionary character of his works and even sometimes was (sort of) defended by such people as Gorky and Stalin (their pet liberal of sorts😅).

Gorky: Bulgakov is not my brother [...] I have not the slightest desire to defend him. But – he is a talented writer, and we don’t have many of those. There is no point in making “martyrs for an idea” out of them. The enemy must either be destroyed or re-educated. In this case, I am for re-education. (Further in the letter Gorky says Bulgakov wants to contact Stalin personally to ask for help with stable employment. Bulgakov later got a place in Moscow Art Theatre).

Stalin: Of course, it is very easy to "criticize" and demand a ban on non-proletarian literature. But the easiest thing cannot be considered the best. The point is not a ban, but step by step to force old and new non-proletarian trash off the stage in a competition, by creating real, interesting, artistic plays of a Soviet character that can replace it. And competition is a big and serious matter, because only in a competitive environment can we achieve the formation and crystallization of our proletarian fiction. As for the play itself, "The Days of the Turbins" (Bulgakov's play), it is not so bad, because it does more good than harm. Do not forget that the main impression left on the viewer by this play is an impression favorable to the Bolsheviks: "if even people like the Turbins are forced to lay down their arms and submit to the will of the people, admitting their cause is finally lost, it means that the Bolsheviks are invincible, nothing can be done with them, the Bolsheviks". "The Days of the Turbins" is a demonstration of the all-crushing power of Bolshevism. Of course, the author is in no way “guilty” of this demonstration. But what does that matter to us?

Bulgakov was heavily censored, called for questioning by authorities multiple times and struggled a lot financially due to his bourgeoise and White sympathies while living in proletarian state. But isn't it the same for communist intellectuals in capitalist countries? So i personally don't cry crocodile tears over his suffering artist lifestory. Bulgakov works were accused of valorizing the Whites by Soviet literary critics (he was universally hated by them) which is true but as Stalin mentioned idealogically it was still net positive for Bolsheviks bc Bulgakovs works were pretty defeatist when it came to Bourgeoise class.

Interesting analysis of Bulgakov in Soviet Literary Encyclopedia released in 1930s: Bulgakov entered literature with the awareness of the death of his class and the need to adapt to a new life. Bulgakov comes to the conclusion: "Everything that happens, always happens as it should and only for the better." This fatalism is an excuse for those who changed milestones. Their rejection of the past is not cowardice and betrayal. It is dictated by the inexorable lessons of history. Reconciliation with the revolution was a betrayal of the perishing class' past. Intelligensia's reconciliation with Bolshevism, which in the past was not only by origin, but also ideologically connected with the defeated classes, the statements of this intelligentsia not only about its loyalty, but also about its readiness to build together with the Bolsheviks - could be interpreted as sycophancy. With the novel "The White Guard" Bulgakov rejected this accusation of the White émigrés and declared: the change of milestones is not a capitulation to the physical winner, but a recognition of the moral superiority of the victors. The novel "The White Guard" for Bulgakov is not only a reconciliation with reality, but also self-justification. A forced reconciliation. Bulgakov came to it through the cruel defeat of his class. Therefore, there is no joy from the knowledge that the bastards have been defeated, no faith in the creativity of the victorious people. This determined his artistic perception of the winner (i.e. Proletariat/USSR/Bolsheviks).

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pascaloverx · 3 months ago

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BORN TO DIE

Summary: In a tense political setting, a Targaryen bastard working as a prostitute is summoned by Prince Aemond to the Red Keep. Aemond wants her to approach his dragon, Vhagar, as a test of her worth. Although he plans for her to claim another dragon in the future, her immediate challenge is to survive Prince Aemond demands while trying to stay alive.

Author’s Note: This work is set in the world created by George R.R. Martin, as depicted in his book Fire & Blood, and none of the characters belong to me. The story will follow some events from the series House of the Dragon (2022), but with changes to fit the fanfiction narrative. Therefore, it will not adhere strictly to the series' storyline. This fanfiction is a work of fiction and may contain inappropriate language, adult content, and violence. Readers be warned. I hope you enjoy the story and interact with it. I apologize if there are any errors in the High Valyrian sections; I used a translator and am unsure of its accuracy. Thank you and happy reading.

PREVIEW TWO

ONE

The journey back to the Red Keep is silent. Aemond communicates only through impatient grunts whenever your hand slips from his waist or when a trot from his horse makes you sway closer to him. The truth is, you’re unsure how to hold onto his waist without practically merging with him. And he’s impatiently racing toward the castle. Your mind is restless. How are you supposed to claim a dragon for Prince Aemond? And what if you fail and end up dead?

"When we arrive at the Red Keep, follow me without further interaction. It’s crucial that your existence remains a secret. We’ll depart as soon as possible to find some use for you. However, your clothes, as well as your smell, betray your origins as a smallfolk. If I’m to endure this journey in your company, it’s better that you’re not reeking." Aemond’s first words directed at you cause discomfort. Not that being treated this way is new, but the discomfort comes from the reality that, once you head toward Dragonstone with Aemond.

"It seems that the mighty Prince Aemond is forgetting that the only safe way to reach Dragonstone without being recognized is by looking like someone like me. Without that fancy attire or that fresh scent, as if you’ve just bathed. Even your silky hair gives away your position. I know how to be invisible, my dear Prince; the question is whether you can be too." You speak, resisting a fleeting urge to lean against Prince Aemond’s back and rest your head on his shoulders.

"I don’t recall asking for your opinion on the matter. Allow me to offer you the opportunity to remain silent before I silence you for good." Prince Aemond could easily embody the arrogant prince. You glance over your shoulder and notice him slightly turning back, likely wanting to gauge your reaction to his threat. You stare at him without saying a word, and you can tell he’s proud of having silenced you.

A few moments later, you arrive at the Red Keep. In that first moment, you question how you’re supposed to dismount from the cursed horse. Aemond has no trouble at all, though he nearly knocks you off in the process of getting down himself. He then begins speaking with some of the King’s guards. Unsure of what to say, you remain silent, still on the horse. You think that if you were to risk a deadly escape, this would be the perfect moment—though lacking any real riding skills, you probably wouldn’t get far. Just then, something makes Prince Aemond notice your hesitation.

“Do you intend to stay on that horse all day? We have tasks to complete,” Prince Aemond snaps, his tone sharp and impatient—his usual demeanor. You look at him, embarrassed. Perhaps he expected a prostitute to know how to dismount a horse with ease. After all, riding cock it's part of what you do for a living.

"I do not intend to waste any more of your time, Your Highness. But I must point out that if I have no idea how to get on a horse, how am I supposed to get off?" You look at Prince Aemond with a certain boldness, wanting to laugh at the angry expression that hovers over his face. He says nothing, simply extends his hands toward you and immediately pulls you down, as if his impatience has reached its limit. His cold hands brush against your skin, indirectly touching your thigh as he yanks you off the horse. You let out a small groan, not as quiet as you would have liked but nothing too conspicuous. The feeling of his hands on you sends shivers down your spine. He however, slightly drops you on the floor as if you were an expendable utensil. You almost stagger but manage to balance yourself as you watch Prince Aemond turn away. You fix your ragged dress as he tries to compose himself, before following Aemond who is already entering the castle.

Aemond orders a few servants to assist you in bathing and changing out of your current attire. He instructs them to provide you with discreet clothing and a cloak. Then he turns to you and whispers near your face, "When you’re done bathing, come to my chambers." You’re not entirely sure why he wants this or if he realizes you have no idea where his chambers are. But you nod gently, confirming that you will go to him.

A servant leads you to a secluded area where there’s a communal bathing space, with other servants also bathing. The sensation of being seen by strangers while you’re naked is a familiar one. Murmurs fill the air, and everyone seems curious about you, though no one speaks to you directly. Not even the servant assisting you. You imagine they’re afraid of Aemond. After all, you are like them—a servant. Moments later, you find yourself dressed in different clothes, delicate and unlike anything you’re used to wearing. The servant finally speaks when she notices your confused gaze, searching for Prince Aemond’s chambers.

"Prince Aemond's chambers are just beyond that door. Knock before entering if you wish to remain alive." The servant speaks softly with unexpected delicacy. You look at her as if relieved to finally know where his chambers are. You want to thank her but imagine that she would rather pretend that this interaction between you two never happened. So you quickly head to Prince Aemond's chambers, silently and taken by nervousness. The servant's words are still clear in your mind as you knock on the door.

Despite knocking on the door, there was no response. You find yourself compelled to enter Aemond’s chambers without an invitation. You fear his anger for not following his order to come to him after bathing. You enter quietly, taking calm steps and making no noise. The first thing you notice is how spacious the room is and how warm it feels compared to the cold water you just bathed in. You immediately think that being a legitimate child of a King must have unimaginable advantages, and you wish you could one day enjoy such comfort for yourself.

"Since you so imprudently entered my chambers, perhaps you'd like to assist me…" Prince Aemond says, appearing suddenly in front of you, which startles you. But it’s not exactly his presence that frightens you. What frightens you is the fact that he is naked. Completely naked, just with his hair loose, even without the eyepatch. Immediately you turn around.

"Your Highness, what kind of assistance do you require from me?" You speak almost as clearly as you can. You have just seen Prince Aemond's cock. And despite your familiarity with cocks, you were not prepared. For a moment, you hope he doesn't misinterpret your reaction.

"I require your assistance to bathe. Do not let your imagination deceive you; I have no intention of having you as a woman in any situation, neither now nor in the future," he says, his tone dry, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. He truly seems to disdain you, yet he prefers your assistance over that of any other servant in the castle. You nod slightly, acknowledging that you understand he does not desire you, and then turn to approach the bathtub where Aemond has just entered. You need to crouch but manage to assist Prince Aemond as you take the sponge and begin to wash his body.

"Prince Aemond, do you really intend to leave your dragon here and come with me to claim another dragon?" you ask, trying to gently wash his body with the sponge while he seems lost in his own thoughts before your question interrupts him.

"Certainly, it is a risk. But leaving a prostitute I do not trust to seek out a precious asset like a dragon, whether alone or accompanied by one of the Kingsguard, seems foolish to me," Prince Aemond says, observing you with his remaining eye as you touch his back and neck with the sponge. The scent of flowers from the bathwater fills the air, creating a palpable tension between you and Aemond.

"If you do not trust anyone around you, your nights must be quite restless. I may not understand what it means to be a Prince, but it seems lonely not being able to count on someone to do what you expect of them. At least you seem to trust Vhagar, since you’re leaving her here," you say, turning to wash the front of Prince Aemond, positioning yourself face-to-face with him. He then grabs your wrist and pulls you closer to him. His remaining eye seems to bore into your soul as you face him, the scar over his other eye drawing even more attention. You don't understand the reason for his sudden proximity, though you can guess that you must have irritated him.

"Your curiosity about my feelings is an inconvenience. Whether my nights are restful or not is of no concern to you. Whether I trust or distrust those around me is irrelevant to you. The only matter you need to focus on at this moment is that you are to claim a dragon on behalf of the rightful King Aegon II. Now, you may leave my chambers. A servant will show you where you will be staying for the night. Tomorrow, we shall depart for Dragonstone," he says with a stern demeanor. You sense that you have touched upon something deeply personal. You set the sponge aside in the bath and, without further words, proceed to find your lodgings for the night.

The following morning, you are roused by a servant who informs you that Prince Aemond is awaiting your presence. Your body aches from having slept in a corner, far from the scrutiny of any significant figures in the castle, as per the Prince’s instructions to remain as inconspicuous as possible. You are provided with a piece of bread and a bit of water to refresh yourself, and then you are prepared for departure. A cloak is draped over you to aid in disguising your appearance.

You are then escorted to the castle’s exit, where you find Prince Aemond waiting with a stern expression. He is clad in a hooded cloak, his hair presumably secured out of sight, as no strands are visible. He briefly glance at you before looking away, as though there is something he wishes to convey but is unable to express, or perhaps it is merely an illusion of your mind.

"It appears you are appropriately attired for the occasion. However, there remains one item missing," Prince Aemond states as he assesses your appearance from head to toe. While you do not fully comprehend his intent, you infer that this might be his way of offering a compliment.

"Pray, Your Highness, what am I lacking?" you inquire, your tone tinged with irritation, which is understandable given the discomfort of your previous night’s rest. Prince Aemond responds with a faint smile and proceeds to grasp your hands, binding them together with a rope. The unexpected nature of this action leaves you momentarily stunned, and he appears to take a certain satisfaction in ensuring the rope is fastened securely, rendering escape impossible.

“Now, you are tied to me,” Prince Aemond declares as he secures the other end of the rope to his own waist. You cast him an angry look, fully aware that this must be an act of retaliation for the previous night. After a deep, frustrated sigh, you accept your predicament, realizing that this journey with Prince Aemond will test your limits in every conceivable way.

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autism-alley · 9 months ago

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hi originally posted this at the end of a long thread of back and forth, here’s the og post if you want full context but i feel like this needs to be its own post especially bc i keep seeing this argument being made—the argument that the kids (in this case it was annabeth) SHOULD just know the monsters are monsters and who they are and how to defeat them before ever encountering them, that it’s a problem if they don’t.

the problem is not if 12 year olds should recognize a trap when they see one, even if they’re smart 12 year olds, and if that’s realistic. that is entirely beside the point.

the problem is rick riordan wrote a book series whose formula is bringing myths to the modern age and he’s not sticking true to that in the show—percy jackson and the olympians’ Shtick is taking these classic, ancient threats and giving them a new face. these traps work because these kids are not walking into a cave marked with Get Out and getting ambushed by monsters—the monsters are disguised as harmless mortal human beings, in harmless mortal human being places (for the most part) and i think we—and more importantly, the show—are all forgetting the mist, the magic involved here. it’s not just that medusa is a “creepy lady with her eyes covered” it’s that there is ancient magic at work here, magic that, like the systems of abuse pjo exists to criticize, has been evolving and continuing its malevolence for millennia. it’s formulaic, that’s the point. it’s the same trap you’ve learned about all your childhood, the same trap a thousand children before you learned all their childhoods, and still, it works. you fall into the trap. because that’s how generational abuse works. it’s a trap. it isn’t enough to learn monsters exist, what they look like from a second hand story that originated thousands of years ago. if you want to escape alive, you have to adapt as quickly as they do, recognize their face, and ultimately, beyond any individual trap, the game itself has to change. real, generational change.

so. the problem is rick riordan wrote a series with a formula for action that perfectly captures the overarching, systemic conflicts he was commentating on, and then threw that formula out in the show because it was “unrealistic”. i don’t give a damn about realism when it works to the detriment of the story. this is a story about generational abuse, yes, but it’s told through ‘a tale as old as time’ and that’s why it works so fucking well. and when it comes to basic storytelling, if your characters know the threat before they even walk in and you do practically nothing to then make up for the stakes you have removed, that’s a flaw. now you’ve lost the entertainment value for your audience, on top of also lessening your themes.

something else that is so. honestly soul-crushing as a writer and a creative, is that to me this is reflective of the way we are now afraid to tell earnest stories. stories where we care not for listening to the people who want to pick apart fictional, mythical, fantasy stories for not being “realistic” instead of aligning with our target audience who acknowledges reality is not what makes a story. think of your favorite movie, show, book, comic, what have you—has the reason for your favoritism ever been because it is the most reasonable, the most grounded, the most practical out of any you’ve seen? or is it because of the emotion? the way it speaks to you, to your life and the person you are? the journey it takes you on? is the percy jackson and the olympians book series so good because it’s inherently realistic?

the secret to storytelling is, very simply, focus on your story. everything else is secondary. if it’s written well, it doesn’t matter to me that the characters walk into a trap that, to the audience, is obviously a trap. because i can understand how the characters don’t know it, and how the story falls apart if the narrative just tells the characters it’s a trap from the jump. that’s what dramatic irony is—first used in greek tragedies! this is literally a tale as old as time in every sense except for the end—where it’s happy. and it’s not earned if we don’t first see, over and over, the status quo as a tragic trap.

it’s not about if annabeth (or the other kids) is “smart enough” to not walk into a trap, or about if she’s just too prideful to not walk into what she knows is a trap (or any reason that could apply to the other characters), it’s that annabeth, at the end of the day, is a character. she is a storytelling tool for the messages of the narrative. that doesn’t make her any lesser. in fact ignoring it reduces her, because it reduces what she represents. it’s about how rick riordan, or whoever else at disney, has fumbled the storytelling bag so ridiculously hard that they can’t take the simple, effective formula outlined from start to finish (by good ol 2009 rick himself) and adapt it to the screen without answering the most unimportant, derailing, anti-story questions.

#one of the ppl who reblogged the og post said whatever happened to suspension of disbelief and i could have kissed them on the mouth #yes exactly #this new age of audiences who praise ‘realism’ over good storytelling i hate u #‘content over cinema’ i hate u.#i’m not even a screenwriter but any writer can tell you #we’re talking foundations of the craft here #and the worst part is rick already succeeded in the books #if it ain’t broke don’t fix it #where along this path did he lose sight of everything he set out to say?#anyways this is its own post now go forth and do with it what u will #pjo #percy jackson #pjo show crit #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo tv show #percy jackson tv show #annabeth chase #ris raves

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faelapis · 1 year ago

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alright! we got one whole person interested, so here's my hot take:

the first "how to train your dragon" movie is WAY better than httyd 2.

i know everyone loves like, the cool warrior mom design, the romance and the "epic animation moments" in 2... but can we for a moment be honest and say the whole "hiccup becoming a leader / which dragon is the Good Alpha" plot was dumb as hell? also, the villain sucked?

the original httyd is pretty good about keeping the structural problem grounded in real societal fears. namely, fear of the unknown and of beasts. it makes sense for any ol' village dealing with such a problem. it was intelligently designed around a solid premise.

httyd 2 is like. actually, dragon taming is a big thing, even outside berk. and theres a Scary Foreign Man dragon tamer who is bad and just wants power. it's okay to other him. being a good guy is about being a protector instead of an evil, power-hungry guy... which hiccup never was anyway... so no real growth there. just be good instead of bad. wow. what a theme. very thought-provoking.

people act like httyd 3 being bad came out of nowhere, but httyd 2 was the original sin to me. it totally dropped the societal themes in favor of generic good vs evil fights and "worldbuilding" - despite having no more interesting stories to tell.

it also kind of ruined hiccup for the sake of developing him. like. his whole thing is that he can't fight, so he has to find other ways to contribute to society. he's the anti-macho hero. which ends up being important in convincing the village that dragons can be peaceful. he's empathetic to the other, because he's been othered.

meanwhile in httyd 2, hiccup's like. Cool Warrior Man, who needs to step up and be the hero king when his dad dies. he can fight just fine, because he has a cool dragon to fight with. so he's just like any warrior, but one who fights with weapons instead of brute strength. aka most fictional warriors who arent just "the heavy."

the first movie isn't beyond criticism, obviously. the animation was a little meh compared to httyd 2 - i get why visually its seen as an upgrade. plus, httyd 1 also did the thing of having like a last minute evil dragon to defeat... but that wasn't the point. the POINT was the village and its fears. the POINT was overcoming that.

whenever people list why they love httyd 2 and consider it superior, its like... lists of details. like, look at the upgraded character designs, the cool flying scenes, the affection between hiccup and astrid, or the clever way hiccup's prosthetic leg is designed.

but these are film *details*, not fundamentals.

if you told me the sequel to httyd was going to have a much more generic story, ignore the themes of the original and makes its deliberately lanky and weak protagonist into Handsome Hero Warrior Boy, i'd be like. that sounds kinda bad. but the Animation Details (tm) i guessssss

i know hiccup is still "himself" in 2 to some extent, btw. he's an inventor, he's intelligent, and he initially tries to talk to the villain. but none of that ends up mattering. its arguably looked down on by the movie, which really, really wants him to step up to be the warrior king like his dad. aka a generic Hero Strongman.

i'm not totally against evolving the themes of a work to fit new conflicts, btw. sequels should generally be different from the first movie. that's fine. that's expected.

but while the new conflict in httyd 2 IS born out of the results of the previous movie, that evolution feels very literal, not thematic.

namely, the evolution is "more people have dragons now." it builds the conflict from there. its based on worldbuilding, not on theme.

i don't think a very interesting evolution.

it kinda went from, in httyd 1: "the theme is fear of the unknown. how prejudice/ignorance manifests, educating oneself through compassion, the dangers of worshipping violent masculinity, and the importance of questioning what you're taught by society."

to, in httyd 2: "the theme is dragons. who has them? what they want with them? how can the Good Guy humans protect dragons from the Bad Guys? also, being a Good Leader means being a strong Hero Man who protects his friends," without asking any deeper questions related to the themes of the first movie.

and i'm like. guys. guys.

the theme shouldn't just be "dragons."

the theme of the first movie was NOT just "dragons." the first movie could've been about people being afraid of unicorns. or large birds. or unusually intelligent bears. it was not just about literal dragons, it was about societal fears and trying to overcome our base gut instincts.

i think this is what really plagues httyd 3: it builds on the themes of the second movie, not the first.

httyd 3 asks further questions that only really revolve around the literal relationship between humans and dragons. it does not understand any broader themes of what that relationship represents.

it clearly thinks its very intelligent for asking "what do the dragons themselves want?", but that question is not respected enough to be explored in any thematically coherent way.

the only real weight its given is the argument that there will always be "bad humans" out there, and so, dragons are safer in the wild. which sure is... an argument. but its a very "othering the problem" kind of argument.

it acts like its caring about the agency of dragons, but its not really. dragons were not actually portrayed as "oppressed" in berk society after the first movie, nor lacking agency. they were only at risk of "bad individuals", to which that solution is stupid. the racialized bad guy in httyd 2 didn't steal all his dragons from berk. he caught and subjugated them, mostly from the wild.

all while looking like... this, by the way. i feel like we don't talk about that enough. all the good guys are white nordics, while the only man of color is scary, domineering and cruel. in a series of movies that was once about having empathy for the other.

MAYBE if berk had been really oppressive towards dragons in httyd 2, we could've had a theme. maybe if they treated them like a dangerous commodity that must be tightly controlled despite their nominal acceptance and inclusion, we could've had a thematically tight 3-movie arc about like fear and oppression or whatever.

but that would require, yknow... making the movies be about broad societal problems, instead of just evil individuals. and only the first movie cares about making any real societal critique.

also, the solution in httyd 3 would've still sucked. these movies, in terms of writing, really decrease in maturity from 1, down to 2, to the plummeting depths of 3.

there is no relationship of oppression that is solved by completely segregating society and going our separate ways (httyd 3). just like there is no oppression that is solved just by defeating bad individuals (httyd 2). we have to learn to coexist as equals, to educate ourselves and be compassionate to the other. even if we're afraid.

that's the dream only the first movie kept in its heart.

#httyd #how to train your dragon #httyd 2 #httyd 3 #how to train your dragon 2 #how to train your dragon 3 #long post /#media analysis #media criticism #writing #ask to tag /#racism /

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lime-bloods · 3 months ago

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i would LOVE a post on that. i have been thinking extensively about pitch romance and how deeply, cruelly toxic it is and how quadrants are in general. a lot of stuff is based in karkat's pov on it (and karkat is like. sooo biased love the guy to death but he is SO BIASED!!!) but sometimes it's in the narration and the existence of auspisticism & the fact that quadrants potentially existed on beforus trips me up as well...

this is a great question! and I suppose "the beginning" is probably the best place to start for a post about this, after all.

it's important to be aware that when we think of Beforus as a planet that is "good", this is not necessarily because it is wholly good by our own standards or even by the author's standards, but because it is good within Homestuck's philosophy, that the "good" is that which is "true" or "real", rather than what is "true" necessarily being good. to put this in another way - which I've only just recently begun to fully understand myself - Beforus being free of Lord English's corruption doesn't mean it's free of problems, just that it's problems are "real" problems, as opposed to fictional problems; they're reflective of problems we have on Earth.

pivotally, Beforus still has systems of gendered oppression, and in that sense it's clear how the intrinsically gendered violence of Alternia's quadrants would find their own place in Beforan society. it's just that in this context, these dynamics arise as part of complex sociological phenomena over thousands of years and aren't put in place solely for a specific purpose by an omnipotent time god, and as such won't necessarily manifest themselves in the exact same ways, or necessarily be "as bad". as with so many things in Homestuck, it's the idea at the core of the concept that's most important; kismesissitude and matespritship on Beforus should be recognisably the same idea as the quadrants on Alternia, just as they are recognisably the same "quadrants" practised by cherubs and humans, despite all of these arising from vastly different and largely disconnected cultural contexts.

the tendency for the same ideas to reliably bubble up to the surface again and again in different contexts is a central law of Homestuck's metaphysics: in the words of the reliable Doc Scratch, "there is essentially nothing new in paradox space." and it's relevant that Scratch is the one to relate this truism, because therein lies a crucial different in connotation between "storyteller" and "narrator"; it is not a narrator's job to invent new ideas, but rather to spin their own interpretation of what has already happened. this is why Scratch's ancestor stories are "troll fanfction"; he's writing an AU of characters who already lived on Beforus. we can only assume that, in the same vein, in "creating" Alternia's quadrants Scratch merely took those parts of Beforus that were convenient to his vision and amplified them to be all-important. (alchemy, as described by 9th century author Jabir ibn Hayyan, was the transmutation of one material into another by manipulating qualities that already existed within all matter, pushing some into the background and pulling others into the fore.)

it's easy to think of auspisticism, meanwhile, as unique among the quadrants in that it superficially seems to provide a service that is beneficial to all involved, and certainly towards Act 6 a lot of the children seem very interested in interpreting it this way. but in the narrative context in which it's introduced to us, I think it's clearly much more about control. as far as the ashen quadrant is concerned, what happens to the participants themselves is inconsequential; a successful ashen quadrant merely upholds the social idea of monogamy by stemming "widespread black infidelity." which is on its own a patently absurd idea: fidelity enforced by the race who practice punishable-by-death polygamy in order to mix all of their genes together in a single pool?! yes, it makes sense within the context of a nonsensically complicated alien reproductive process, but the nonsensical complicatedness of it all is entirely the point; the quadrants are designed to intersect in ways that not even the trolls themselves could ever fully understand. just as it's often impossible for a troll to distinguish between feelings that are platonic, pale or red, when Eridan attempts to "spark a rivalry wit)( [Sollux] to get [Feferi] to auspisticize [...] and pull us out of our quadrant" it's "t)(e oldest and lamest trick in t)(e book" precisely because it's the quadrant working exactly as intended! all of the quadrants serve to make relationships messier under the guise of making them more structured because messy relationships make for a great story, which is Alternia's fundamental purpose.

I think the Karkat point is worthy of another post deconstructing all the quadrants more broadly, because a lot of different things have been said about it already and it's worth getting into, but straightforwardly I think it must be understood that Karkat and "the narration" have fundamentally the same bias; the narrative wants us to take Alternia seriously because Alternia as a machine is a construction of the narrative for the purposes of the narrative, and Karkat wants us to take Alternia seriously because he's a massive stooge who has made his whole life's purpose out of buying into that narrative.

#homestuck #analysis #quadrants #romance #beforus #auspisticism #discussion

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winter-sol · 1 year ago

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leviathan vs. leviathan?! (or an idiot's internal struggle)

word count: 2,4k

pairing: GN! reader / Leviathan

contents: ! nsfw minors DNI. pathetic and jealous levi, begging, praising. handjobs. a light crossover with what in hell is bad? featuring its Leviathan as a fictional character.

Leviathan, as the pathetic demon he is, gets terribly jealous over WHB!Leviathan while you play that game. You are willing to reassure him he's the only one for you.

also at ao3 here 🖤

There was a limit to how long he could endure watching you so engrossed in that damn game. The game with the fictional -and inferior- versions of themselves, the Seven Rulers of Hell. How could you be so interested in that when he is right there?!

He could guess that, in some way, it’s a compliment, considering it would mean your attraction to him transcends the limits of reality and made you want to install the game and meet that Leviathan.

…That Leviathan.

Blond, light-colored eyes, a sensual and mysterious gaze that leaves on their knees anyone who has the bliss to look at his graceful and erotic figure, wearing a tight and elegant black suit. He looks nothing like the disgusting and socially awkward otaku he is, the real one.

“Mmm… So, if I level this up I can get that skill… I see.”

While he observes you from the floor cushion, he thinks immediately you’re only pretending to be interested in the gameplay instead of the demons, his insecurity and envy overflowing and shamelessly escaping his control. He should pretend as well, pretend he’s fine with it. But in that moment, he simply doesn’t care.

“Ahhh, there it is! Hey, Levi, you wanna take a look?” You ask innocently, thinking that he also feels curiosity at it when in his insides he only wishes that shithole of a game never existed in the first place. Fuck them. Fuck that… sexy imposter, he bets he could never summon Lotan and destroy the entire Hell or Celestial or Human Realm.

“Nope, pass.” He says in an indifferent voice as he pretends to focus his attention in an allegedly more engaging game in his console. His pout still goes unnoticed by you, so you insist.

“You gotta be kidding, you really don’t wanna meet your alter ego? He even has completely voiced lines! His voice actor apparently has experience doing these kinds of things, hehe.” You say as you stare at your phone’s screen, with your arms propped on the edge of the bathtub, poking out slightly, while you await your demon’s answer.

“Nope, not interested. I’m grinding so leave me alone.”

His curt tone now actually grabs your attention back to him, and there’s no way you can ignore his expression. He’s literally huddled up in a ball, sulking and avoiding at all costs looking at your direction. You find it hard to contain your laughter in that moment, but making fun of him may not be the best decision. This is the Avatar of Envy.

Smiling to yourself, you get out of his bathtub and move closer to him, laying down behind him and draping your arm around his waist, pulling him into a hug. Without expecting the sudden physical contact, he makes a little jump at your action. “H-Hey! What are you doing?! Get out and stay over there with your little game, since he clearly is a better Leviathan than me, right?”

He must be joking… Is he really that obvious? Now you can’t hold back the laugh, but you do the effort to make it look like a silly, flirty giggle.

“Levi~ What are you saying? No matter what, I only want you,” you tell him in a sweet voice while you nuzzle your cheek against his shoulder, his back still turned on you.

“Don’t lie. Deep down, you’d like me to be like that, don’t you?” A tinge of sarcasm is found at the end of that sentence, jealousy fueling his words as he keeps going. “He’s sexier, his voice is more attractive and deeper, and he looks absolutely dreamy. Aaand he totally must have a better body, obviously, ‘cuz he was created for that. Oh, and he doesn’t have this horrible tail I grow in my demon form. Does he even have demon traits or is he just a pretty boy with horns? Hmph.” He scoffs and continues, “And I bet he wouldn’t info dump you or make you all bored with my stupid animes all the time. And he doesn’t have a 2D waifu or husbando since that’s totally disgusting and unattractive, right? Also-.” You can’t help interrupting.

“What the fuck, Levi” You feel like cringing at his rant a little bit but now you’re entertained. “Have you really been staring at him that much? Wow, I mean, I thought you didn’t care about him at all.” You finish that sentence with another giggle, knowing you could be entering more dangerous territory with the teasing, but deciding to test your luck and see how he takes it.

“N-No!! Don’t be ridiculous! Aghh, you normie,” he says grumbling. Mmm… You figure you’ll have to convince him otherwise before he sinks in his bad mood even further.

You reach your hand to his chest, caressing lightly above the fabric of his hoodie, and you get your lips close to his ear. “You seriously believe those pixels are better than you? When you’re this amazing, Leviachan~” You purr his name while you press your fingers over his thick muscles, wanting to emphasize his body’s appeal. “No one makes me feel like you. No one ever will. You’re the only one for me.” You finish with a kiss directly on his neck, sensing how he shivers at the gesture.

“H-Hey! You’re trying to make fun of me?”, he says with a confrontational voice, but you know it won’t last long if you play your cards well.

“No, love. I mean it. You want me to prove it to you?”

You embrace him from the back with both of your arms, sneaking your hands below his clothes. You rub your palms over the hot skin of his torso, fondling him without any subtlety in your intentions, desire starting to flow through you while you cover him with pecks on his nape, his neck, and his shoulder.

“Ngh!” Leviathan responds immediately at your ministrations, air escaping through heavy, ragged breaths while you delight with his reactions. His sensitivity is adorable.

One of your hands travels to his v line, sensing the hard muscle there in direction to his crotch. Expectant, you follow the trail and slide your hand under the hem of his sweatpants that are already flaunting his quickly growing hardness through the fabric. An exciting sight, indeed, that you only want to put your hands onto. And as much as he tries to play difficult to get, he’s easy when you know what to say, where to touch, how to fire his own want too.

You decide to continue with the sweet nothings. “How am I supposed to look elsewhere, hmm? Please tell me because I couldn’t if I tried.” Your hand palms his length through his underwear as he gasps, trying to fight his urges and wanting to prove you wrong even though it’s almost impossible for him now, not when he can feel your touch so vividly, so irresistible.

“A-Ah…” A moan comes out finally as you reach under the fabric and fully grab his erection, your own composure faltering at the sensation of his scorching skin of his long, thick cock.

“Levi.” You say in a low voice while you circle your hand around it, gripping it greedily and dragging it down in a slow, tormenting movement. Your voice is almost a whisper, deviously teasing him “I bet you’re bigger than him”. He shivers at the touch, gasping as your grip goes down, then up, torturing him in a delicious, slow pace. You always enjoy taking your time when it comes to feeling all of him, as much as you can. No one else can have the honor of touching the Third Ruler of Hell like this.

As if awakening something feral in him, a growl comes out while you keep working him with your hand, desire pooling in you as you feel his frame stiff. Before you can continue, he grabs your wrist and turns his head to your direction.

“Prove it”, his voice is hoarse while he looks at you from above with serious, lust-filled gaze that fails at hiding his true desperation. The sunset in his eyes almost nonexistent as black engulf his aching stare. “Show me I’m the only one you need.” You notice him gulping, and conveying his own longing, he gives up his dignity in a low, weak voice “...Please.”

You smile viciously at the display, grabbing firmly the base of his cock and pulling a grunt out of him.

“Of course, love. You’re the only demon for me, Leviathan.”

You kiss under his jaw, licking that sensitive spot for him while you start a quicker pace. A sweet groan echoes through the spacious room, and his body tenses as your grip twists, giving a circular motion that only makes him fall deeper into delirium, a touch so delicious he melts into it, resting his body against yours while his legs spread giving you more access to anywhere you want.

“That’s it, sweetheart, you like this, don’t you?” Your sultry voice makes him shudder, completely surrendering himself to you. In this moment, he couldn’t care less about the other Leviathan, fuck him, he doesn’t even exist but he does, he does and he’s right here for you to take as you please.

“MC…! Yes, yes, I like it, please,” he cries out, feeling his toes curling at the buzzing ecstasy that fills him violently, your other hand rubbing his nipples under the hoodie, pinching one and gently fondling it after, turning him into a bigger, hungry mess.

He suddenly wonders if you’re even comfortable, his weight resting more on you as he squirms, but any thought dies when your thumb rubs the slit of his dick, eyes watering at the pleasure that defies his own self-control. “Fuck, MC, ahh!!” he whines while precum comes out, making your movements smoother as the strokes only grow harder and faster.

You are delighted by his sounds, possessiveness and power clouding your mind with the desire of him to beg you more, to beg for you to own him and show him he’s the only one. He still gets like that, insecure and jealous over the most stupid things, but you’re ok with it. You’ll reassure him as much as he needs. If that’s the kind of partner he needs, you’ll gladly be that.

“C’mon, baby, tell me, what do you want from me?” You sound playful and delirious yourself, marking your words nibbling his neck again afterwards, starting to abuse the red skin in there. He cries at the bite, closing his moist eyes and his hips moving with increasing frenzy.

“MC… Please, keep saying it… Say you love, say you need me, ah! As much as I need you… please…”

There it is. More begging. It sends electricity through your own body, and you let him fuck your hand as he cries out. You’re as desperate for him as he is for you, and you can only obey him.

“I love you, Levi.” A hungry adoration can be heard in your words, your whisper loud enough for his ears only. You bite his shoulder while he erratically rocks his hips into your hand, searching his own selfish pleasure and bringing himself at the edge of his release. “Come for me, love. You’re mine, mine, mine… I need you, only you.”

Those final words are too much for him, a loud moan resonating as he spills his orgasm on your hand, flows of cum leaking and making the last drags thicker and strained, as he finally collapses. His mind is still on the clouds, vision white as he slowly starts regaining his consciousness. His body starts relaxing, still in your tight embrace, and his breathing is gradually becoming steady once again.

You kiss his jaw, his lobe, and his cheek while you wait for him to recover his senses, soft pecks tenderly awakening him from his intense climax.

“…MC… You’re amazing… hehe.” The light chuckle that decorates his voice at the end makes you smile at his sincerity.

“You are amazing. Now give me a kiss, love.”

He shifts and gets on his side, finally facing you properly. He complies and kisses you gently, a wave of affection and unreleased want filling you as his soft, moist lips presses against yours. You smile into it, letting it grow more passionate in an intimate moment of calm and blissfully quietness. The movements of your mouths are languid, lazy, as you enjoy tasting each other.

After a while, you both part and regain your breathing. The tension between your legs is starting to rise as your own hunger remains unattended. You decided to tease him some more in order to get what you want from him.

“Levi… I need you…” You lock your eyes on his, eager arousal filling your thoughts of getting to claim him one more time.

He widens his eyes as he gets the meaning of your words, smiling and pecking your lips once again. “Yeah… Let me do it for you.”

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As you two hide under the cozy blanket, he admires the way the voice actor seems to be giving his all in the porn scene of the game happening in that instant. “Wow… this is hot, I give them that.”

You enjoy how he’s finally open to try the game and share this… unique situation with you. You chuckle, “I told you, you wouldn’t hate it. Besides, take it as a compliment, you’re so cool you inspired this little guy to exist!” You scratch the imposter demon through the screen, red lines appearing on his skin as the sound of a breathy moan comes out. “Look, he’s into pain like you sometimes.”

He gives an exaggerated noise as a complain. “H-Hey! That’s… Wait, how would they even know?! It’s just a coincidence… Right?” You laugh at how he ends up admitting it.

“Yeah, but an incredible one.” You say as blond Leviathan whines while you keep stimulating him. You try to give your Levi the phone. “Here, do something to him too.”

He looks at it for a moment, contemplating his options. “Mmm, I don’t know. Wouldn’t that count as some type of masturbation?”

You burst out laughing at that.

“Hahahaha! Holy shit. Maybe? I don’t know, you aren’t him, so...”

“Yeah, I don’t know, it’s kinda weird? Doing these things to this 2D version of myself?”

“…You’re really saying that as if you haven’t jacked off to multiple hentai games before. The audacity of this pervert.”

He looks at you with a horrified expression. “Shut up!! That’s totally different! It has nothing to do with myself! It’s with other characters.”

He really has no shame anymore.

#obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me smut #obey me x reader #obey me fanfic #leviathan smut #leviathan x mc #leviathan x reader #whb leviathan #what in hell is bad #hope i'm not spaming their tag but well since it's part of the plot...#winter writes #guess who's back

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