#for crafting so many great female characters

[mydaylight]

The thing that I appreciate the most about Story of Minglan is how pro-active its female characters are. It’s not just a show meant to highlight the exploitation and vulnerability of women in the context of the Song Dynasty society (although we certainly get to witness that); but one that lets their fierceness and determination and agency shine. It’s so remarkable that the majority of the plots in the show are centred around women and resolved by women. Even when it comes to the case of antagonists like Lin Qinshuang, Xiao Qin-shi, Old Madam Wang, the empress dowager etc, they are imposing figures with complex motivations that contribute to all the important developments. When little Minglan gets orphaned, it’s Hualan’s advice to Wang Ruofu that appeases the Wei family and Old Madam Sheng who steps up to take Minglan under her wing when her own father wouldn’t. When Molan has an affair, it’s up to Wang Ruofu and Old Madam Sheng to take the initiative to speak to the Liang family about a possible marriage. When Gu Tingye proposes marriage to Yu Yanhong, it’s her mother the one who needs to give the final approval and in the end cuts him off. When Qi Heng gets threatened, again it’s Princess Consort Yong pulling the strings. Consort Rong decides to murder the Yong Family (the family of the prince about to inherit the nation, mind you) to get revenge for the rape and death of her younger sister. Shulan’s divorce is negotiated by her own mother and grandmother, and not her father. When Auntie Kang is killed, it’s Old Madam Wang the one going to imperial palace to scheme against Tingye. Minglan gives up on ever expecting her father to give her justice so she steps up and takes extreme measures to get revenge for her mother’s death, and her contribution is what helps Yanran, Shulan, Kang Zhao’er, Zhang Guifen, and finally Old Madam when she gets poisoned. Even Concubine Wei, who always insisted on keeping a low profile, was ready to go to the Kaifeng Court to prove Xiao Die's innocence (so you see where Minglan gets it from). And Lady Bai was ready to divorce her husband and walk away with her children after finding out how she was used. Even that small moment of Mingyue asking to have her family’s slave contracts returned to them so she can escape being forced to become a concubine to a man she doesn’t like is so satisfying to see. It’s just so great to get a show like that that’s not just trying to make a point about the suffering of women, but actually lets its female characters be active participants in their own stories and take control of their lives instead of being subservient to male character, or reducing them to the role of the love interest or a passive sufferer.

[kathaynesart]

Replica Holiday Special Winners!

Happy Holidays everyone! It's that time of year and you know what that means! Time to announce the winners for the DTIYS Replica Holiday Special Cover!

I received so many wonderful submissions. Far more than I had anticipated! They were all so unique and creative and it was an absolute joy to look at each and every one of them! I really underestimated however how difficult it would be to choose with them all being so unique from each other. In the end, I decided to gauge the top picks on how well their cover captured the "essence" of what this Special is going to be like! Without further ado, here are the winners.

HONORABLE MENTION - @matchstique

Buddy! I love this piece so dang much! It has so much character and perfectly displays the wacky hijinks we can expect as well as the huge amount of stress our poor boys are under during these trying, pregnancy times. The movement and colors work so well and make me excited for what comes next! Seldom do I see pregnant females shown as the badasses they are, but you have gone and turned Cassandra into an absolute icon with this piece! Bless you!

3RD PLACE - @thegunnsara

Sara, the shear amount of craft you put into your art is STAGGERING. Every scuff on Raph's shell and wisp of smoke screams of a quality I can only hope to attain someday. I literally want to be you when I grow up! That said, the concept of this piece is also fantastic. One of the things I'm must excited about for this Special is getting to see Raph and Casey as they were and witnessing the strong bond they share. I love them dearly and this cover captures their strength and tenacity so perfectly. Gods among men.

2ND PLACE - @cupcakeslushie

Slushie, this cover is so damn fun and dynamic that I can't stop looking at it! Your attention to detail and composition are masterful and the fact that you could fit such a bombastic battle into such a limited space speaks to how crazy talented you are! You also do a wonderful job of retaining both the intensity of the apocalypse but also that playful edge that Rise always manages to retain! It's definitely the cover that would catch my eye on a shelf and make me want to turn the page to see what happens next!

1ST PLACE - @abbeyofcyn

Cyn, the moment I saw this cover, I gasped! It's funny because this is both a piece I could have totally seen myself doing had I done the cover, yet crafted in a unique way I could have never come up with on my own! On top of that, this slick composition scratches my little designer brain juuust right. The use of the hands motif is such a great element because to me, it encapsulates the conflicting themes of family/parenthood with the drama of what it means to be human. On top of that, having each character as one of the digits both connected to and encircling Casey is such a wonderful touch that really drives the symbolism home. Somehow, you managed to peer into the future and perfectly capture how the finale of this special is going to feel. Thank you so much Cyn for such a wonderful piece!

~~~~~~~~~

Now that I think about it, looking back on these winners as a set, all four them actually do an amazing job as individual covers for each of the four "acts" that will make up this special. That was not at all my intention, but it kind of worked out perfectly for that. Gets me all emotional!

I also definitely want to put a spotlight on the other amazing submissions, many of which made it SO close to the top slots! I was going to post these pieces individually but I was worried people wouldn't then go to their blogs to view the covers, so instead have a compilation and links to the full versions! Please check out everyones amazing covers and give them some love. They all worked really hard and it means so much to me. Thank you everyone!

@dreamundraws - LINK @honeylief - LINK @gemini-forest - LINK @memorydarkness - LINK @skullythefriendlyskullface - LINK @v-albion - LINK @its-wabby-stuff - LINK @yris-latteyi - LINK @reagi-df - LINK @chaoscontrol50 - LINK / LINK @murasakibonnet - LINK @hitwiththetmnt - LINK @xandriagreat - LINK @karonkar - LINK @sunydays - LINK (sorry my dear, yours did not appear on my hashtag reference at first! D: But still love it!) @quailaz - LINK @delicatechildwitch - LINK

Thank you again all of you! You all did such an amazing job!

[butteronabun]

You’ve been reading too many romance books lately.

Of course, reading is one of your favorite past times, so it’s no surprise to the people if they encounter you occupied with a book. Either the genre be true crime or fantasy, romance books are an indulgence - you give yourself a special time for romance.

You take note of this one particular story: where the female character is a cheeky girlfriend who likes to tease her clearly embarrassed boyfriend. The dynamic is already up to your standards - the standards being: you and Diluc.

In that page, that lady grabbed her man’s waist. The man blushed, not expecting the contact at all, and his lady was delighted by his reaction.

You, who wanted to try this out, did not waste any spare moment. You head to Diluc’s office. You find him standing near his desk, reading some documents, and you approach him with a playful smirk.

Your man is built – crafted and sculpted by the gods who blessed him tremendously; he is a beautiful man with a stocky body due to years of training. With his physique, everything is to die for. You won’t ever let him forget how much you adore him. Not only do you praise him but comfort him in his darkest days - you remind him continuously of how great he is, and kiss his scars in his private quarters.

Diluc notices your presence, and turns around, paperwork seemingly forgotten. ( He must’ve heard your footsteps. ) You don’t hear his term of endearment and his question of what are you doing – you simply face him and grab him by the waist, startling the ever–so composed Master.

“Hey,” you greet with a wink.

Diluc stares at you, and you celebrate when you see his cheeks grow slightly pink. “Hello.”

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“. . .This is my office?”

Imagining such romantic scenarios will always be entertaining - this is why you love reading books. It makes your heart burst. The characters, the stories the experience - everything in a book makes you feel.

But nothing will ever, ever compare to the real thing.

“A table for two, Mr. Ragnvindr?” The waitress asks, with the menus already in her hold.

Diluc gives her a small smile. He casually puts a hand on your waist, and you stiffen in your position. You do not know if Diluc has noticed, and if he does, he chooses not to show it. “Yes. May I request a table with the best view?”

While the two of them are busy conversing, you try not to reveal to the other guests the effect Diluc has made on you. You can feel your cheeks heat up - this isn’t what you signed up for, not at all. It was supposed to be you flustering Diluc!

You feel your knees getting weaker when Diluc’s thumb starts rubbing your waist slowly and sensually through your dress.

As if he is teasing.

As if he —

Oh, gods.

Dinner’s going to be tough.

[theragethatisdesire]

perzītsos - bakugou katsuki x afab!reader, 18+!!

uh....surprise! i really love asoiaf, and i've seen so many posts about barbarian!katsuki, but i wasn't really successful in writing him, so here's my take on a fantasy au with katsuki. this takes place pre-fire and blood, really in the "medieval" days of the targaryen dynasty, with a targaryen heir!reader. i took some creative liberties with targaryen marriage customs, but i think they're sorta fun.

this is a beast of a one-shot, but there's lots of lore preceding this (do i smell a prequel?), including that reader asked for katsuki's hand in marriage, and neither of them were really expecting to wind up in a marriage bed together. i normally don't write virginity loss, but i made an exception for these two, i really do love them!!! fair warning, there's lots of high valyrian in here, which i don't speak fluently either, so i'm going to add some translations at the end :)

"perzītsos" - "little flame"

enjoy <3

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

wc: 13.5k (told ya it's a beast)

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut. bakugou is roughly twenty-eight in this fic.

cws: virginity loss, aged-up characters, fingering, oral sex (fem!receiving, male!receiving mentioned), reader has female anatomy, smut, pretentious amounts of high valyrian pet names

𖤓

Leaving the raucous merriment of the great hall behind, its stone walls bursting at the seams with the raunchy, jeering calls of Bakugou’s soldiers and the titters of the ladies of the court, only seems to emphasize the echoing silence of your chambers. The servants had completed the arduous job of transferring your things into your new apartments today; you recognize the tapestries that had decorated your walls since you were a child, now dwarfed by the massive dimensions of your new quarters, and the candelabra you’d been gifted by a nobleman at your seventh name day sits upon a newly constructed ebony desk.

Nearly every hard surface in the room—desks, tables, even small areas of the floor—has been covered in the fat, yellow beeswax candles crafted in the kitchens many stories below your feet, flames dancing and casting shadows this way and that over the stone walls. Many a night have you forgone sleep in favor of losing yourself in the waltz of a small fire on a wick, the sometimes-frantic, sometimes-untroubled rhythm of the flame in the breeze of an open window. Tonight, though, not even the hundreds of flames, these little extensions of the hot, ancient blood that flows through your veins, can distract you from your fate.

“I remember these rooms,” you say offhandedly, bringing one hand to the fine curtains that hang around the tapestry bed, “they were my mother’s.”

Bakugou stays stock still where he stands, letting you examine the marriage bed. The wood was brought into these chambers several weeks ago, alongside a handful of master carpenters. The bed is enormous, easily large enough for three people to get a full night’s sleep without touching each other. It had been built inside of the room so that the intended dimensions could be fulfilled without the worry of actually fitting it through the door, which it would not. The sight of it makes an apprehensive shiver rock through your frame.

“You were born here,” Bakugou says gruffly, catching you by surprise. “I remember.”

You turn to face him, eyebrows raised cautiously at his decision to speak. Considering what lies before you both, the breach in his silence is appreciated, if unexpected. He’s hardly said two words to you all night; two words besides the lengthy wedding vows you’d exchanged before gods and men alike, speaking them practically into each other’s mouths in the purring, labyrinthine cadence of the Old Tongue. The metallic taste of his blood, brushed onto your tongue by his own thumb, is still nestled between your teeth, worryingly permanent.

“You remember?”

“Hardly.” Bakugou diverts his gaze from you to where your marriage bed lies, squinting his eyes as if he’s trying to remember what it had looked like more than twenty years past. “I was three.”

It shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it is, given that you’d practically been raised alongside Bakugou, taken your first steps, tasted your first victories, had your first stumbles under his watchful crimson gaze. The required distance had been there, as you’d always been more of an heir than a little girl, and Bakugou had been busy with his training anyhow, but he was a steadfast part of your memories, even if he had been mostly in the blurry peripherals until the most recent years. This confession, that he had stood in the same room as your howling, bloodied form had been brought into the world, makes you feel more exposed than you already do in your thin gown.

Bakugou must take notice of how your shoulders unintentionally tense up, because his lips pull into a small frown, not one of anger, but seemingly guilt. You sigh, rolling your shoulders back and squaring yourself to face him, trying not to let your cheeks burn hot as your nipples peak under the singular layer of fabric hiding the finer details of your body from him. He’s intimidating, and both of you know it, but considering that you’re the reason you two find yourselves in this room, you think that maybe you should be the one to guide him along.

Bakugou approaches you slowly, making a noticeable effort to dull down the soldier’s swagger he normally walks with, holding your gaze with what you surmise is his best attempt to look open and mild-tempered. You notice how he pointedly avoids looking at your body, how it’s silhouetted by the candlelight and showing itself as a dark, shapely shadow in the white fabric of your gown. He’s close enough to touch now, toes only inches from yours. You’re reminded of how close you stood during the ceremony, how he had sworn to give his life for you, to you. Ānogar ānograro.

“They’re waiting,” you say quietly, eyes darting to the four servants in each corner of the room. Bakugou follows your gaze, and his frown grows deeper.

“May I speak freely?” It’s a laughable question coming from him, but it’s a kindhearted gesture, so you bite into your lip and nod your acquiesce.

“You’re my husband,” you say, trying not to feel discouraged at the pink tinge that rises to his cheeks, “I always want you to speak freely.”

Through a stiff nod of understanding, Bakugou lets a deep breath exhale through his nose before pinning you in place with a scrutinizing gaze. “Have you been…kissed, before?”

“Of course I have, Bakugou.” You can’t hide the breathless chuckle that comes fluttering from your lips, the dangerous hint of a relieved smile that begins to carve into your cheeks.

“Katsuki,” he says, the corner of his own mouth curling when his simple request for familiarity wipes the glimmer of smugness straight away from your face. “Your husband, remember?”

“Katsuki,” you repeat, letting the letters make a home for themselves on your tongue. Something flashes in his eyes, and he clears his throat. You can’t make out the shape of what’s flickered across his face, but you can feel the heat thrumming from his eyes to yours.

“What else?”

“What do you mean?” Your nose wrinkles in confusion, entirely lost on what point he’s trying to make. Katsuki narrows his eyes, clears his throat uncomfortably.

“What else do you have…experience with?”

Oh. He wants to know if you’ve been touched, where you’ve been touched, possibly even by whom. It’s your turn to shuffle your bare feet on the cold stone floor, to look solidly ahead at the v in the collar of his loose tunic, the slope of his neck, anywhere but his eyes. Your stomach begins to roil at the implication of this, of baring yourself to him wholly. It won’t be the first time you do it tonight, and certainly not the last.

“I’ve– um, done most things.” You somehow summon the courage to meet his gaze again, staring up defiantly. “I hope that’s not a disappointment to you.”

“You had no obligation to me before today.” Katsuki shakes his head, as if to dispel the very notion that you even have something to refuse to apologize for. It brings a spark of warmth to your heart, a hum of satisfaction pulsing through you that you’d chosen your husband well, at least in this regard. “But you are a virgin?”

You can’t control the way your eyes go wide, blinking hurriedly at him when he asks the question. Your fingertips grow hot, and you aren’t sure which potential answer would be the least mortifying, so you opt to stick with the truth.

“Yes,” you say, so lowly it’s near a whisper, “I’m a virgin.”

Katsuki swears quietly in the Old Tongue, and though you’re more focused on your feet than his face, you can see the awkward repositioning of his feet, how his hands clench and unclench at your confession. He’s your husband, you scold yourself, you have no need for fear. You jerk your head up to look unflinchingly at his face, unapologetic in your stance. Despite the way he had voiced his indifference to your prior experiences, you can see some strange mixture of relief, nerves, and that same undefinable heat rising to his face, coloring his features and darkening his eyes.

His eyes run over your consummation gown, long, loose, and traditional as they come, lovingly hand-stitched by your longest serving lady-in-waiting. Your handmaidens had taken the liberty of freshening you up after the feast, scrubbing most of the heavy, ash-black ceremony makeup from the bridge of your nose, wiping the kohl from your eyes until you were bare. Your elaborate wedding hairstyle had been let down and reworked into a long, singular braid down your back, loosely secured by a knot of cowhide. That, amongst other things, is for him, and only him.

“After this,” Katsuki wets his lips with his tongue, “we won’t share a bed again–”

“Katsuki–”

“Not until you’re ready,” he amends. His fingers twitch by his sides, a boyish gesture for a man of his massive stature.

“I’m your wife,” you say, puzzled and looking up at him, “I may be a virgin now, but I’m no stranger to what that entails.”

A heavy breath shakes through Katsuki’s frame, and his brows knit together in an expression of comfortingly familiar exasperation. You almost want to smile back at him.

“I expected as much,” he says, one hand reaching forward ever so slowly to brush tentatively through your fingers dangling at your side, to pinch at the thin fabric of your gown and rub it between his fingers, “but that’s a matter for the morning.”

You catch the implication in his tone, in the way he’s holding the sheet separating you from him. There’s something to be taken care of. Your palms turn clammy, fingers beginning to tremble by your sides. It takes everything in you to set your jaw and look up at him, shoulders rolled back and expression carefully schooled into something that you can only pray approaches a warm neutrality.

“Would you like to take it off?” Your eyes flit from your gown to his face.

Katsuki considers you, dragging his eyes over your frame at an agonizingly slow rate, still maddeningly rubbing that fabric between his fingers. Suddenly, his face crumples into a scowl.

“You’re shaking,” he says matter-of-factly. Your cheeks warm, wishing he wouldn’t have brought it up. “Are you nervous?”

“Not of you,” you answer him truthfully, willing the tension in your spine to melt into pleasurable anticipation. Katsuki catches your meaning instantly, the concern in his eyes glittering into something more akin to the anger that settles so comfortably into the frown lines on his face, that strikes his sharp features so suddenly and beautifully you almost gasp.

“Turn around,” he barks suddenly, his posture straightening into that of the formidable general you’ve known him as all your life, not the surprisingly gentle husband he’s shown himself to be in the last few minutes. You start in his arms, beginning to spin on your heels to follow his command when his hands catch you by the shoulders, an apology writing its way into the fine features of his face.

“But you said–”

“Them.” Katsuki jerks his head towards the servants posted in each corner who are, miraculously, turned away from the two of you, heads down and poised towards the corner. You look up to Katsuki in amazement, and his eyes soften. “I wouldn’t speak to you that way.”

“Oh.” It’s light and not enough when it falls from your mouth, and you want to apologize, but Katsuki’s already loosening his grip on your shoulders, urging you to spin.

“Now you,” he says gently, “turn around.”

Too stunned by the duality of him to argue, the whetted and wartorn angles of him contrasting with this unbearable softness, you turn your back to him, urging yourself to relax under the weight of his hands. Katsuki’s hands subtly squeeze your shoulders, as if to warn you of their departure, and the next time you feel his touch, it’s on the end of your long braid, his scarred fingers fumbling with the cowhide tie.

You hold your breath as you feel the tension along your scalp go slack; he’s gotten the tie off of your braid. Katsuki’s fingers begin to methodically comb through your long hair, starting at the bottom and working his way up, deftly avoiding knots and keeping the lightly-oiled strands from tangling themselves as he undoes your braid. He’s surprisingly good at it, and an unexpected pang of pain accompanies your curious thought as to whether he’s had much practice undoing a woman’s hair, something so sacred. Before you can ruminate on the hurt beginning to come to a simmer in your chest, Katsuki’s spinning you back around, causing the calming perfume of your hair oil to cloud around your head as your hair fans out. It centers you, gives you the wherewithal to look up into his eyes.

Katsuki’s face is candid, beautifully so, in the way he regards you. Crimson eyes dart over every feature you have to offer him, now so wild and unbidden compared to your usual state of being, and he reaches a tentative hand towards your hair, before flinching and pulling back. You shake your head, bringing a hand out to catch his and pull it back towards the part of you he so clearly wants to touch before you can think better of it. Katsuki’s eyes widen, only momentarily, before his face settles into an expression of quiet approval, and he runs his fingers through your hair again, less purposeful this time and more for the simple pleasure of memorizing the feel of you under his hands. You blink up at him, waiting.

“Gevie,” he mumbles under his breath, watching how his fingers card through your unruly hair. He mistakenly brushes your nipple, still peaked under your consummation gown, and realizes what he’s done when you gasp lightly. 

“It’s okay,” you say hurriedly, surprising yourself when you realize that you mean it. Your back has already begun to arch unwittingly towards him, as if your body has accepted him as your husband while your mind is still trying to wrap itself around the idea. “Touch me.”

You can see the thought cross Katsuki’s face before he even reaches for your gown, pinching it at the hips on either side of you.

“Do you want to take it off, or would you like me to?” Katsuki says, hardly louder than a whisper. You blink, still trying to marry this man with the outspoken, ruthless general you’d invited to the altar with you.

“Traditionally, the man–”

“I know,” Katsuki says, a bit of an agonized bite behind his words. You bite your lip, worried that you’ve finally overstepped, but he sighs, heavy and surrendered. “I know what happens traditionally. I don’t care. We’re doing this on your terms.”

“My terms,” you repeat slowly, trying to gather his meaning.

“Yes,” Katsuki affirms, “your terms. Now, do you want to take your gown off, or do you want me to?”

You want to run to the washroom to realign your expectations, is what you want to do. This is supposed to be quick, you remember your handmaidens preparing you with monstrous stories of being unceremoniously bent over the bed, gown ripped to shreds or simply shoved above your hips instead of carefully pulled between a considerate thumb and finger. You study him, study that freshly sincere affection on his face, his willingness to bring you through this unscathed and…dare you say it, satisfied. Your hand, which, so lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed drifting, comes up to cup his sharp jaw, plush palm giving against the angle of his face.

“I want you to,” you say, nodding when his eyebrows raise in surprise. “I want you to take it off of me, please.”

Katsuki only answers you with a curt nod of his own, schooling his momentarily bewildered expression back into one of careful concentration, more for your benefit than his, you think. You can feel a slight tremor in his hands when he brings them to the strings that suffice for your gown’s sleeves, little more than strips of fabric tied in loose bows over your shoulder. Despite the painstakingly beautiful embroidery in the stiff linen, curling flames and stars rising from the hem of your gown, everything else about the design of the garment reveals its purpose: to be removed.

You hold your breath while he works at the tied strings, partly because you feel like you should and partly because the slightest brush of his fingers over your skin feels so climactic that you feel that it should make a sound, maybe that of pottery breaking or lightning clapping across a dark sky. It’s silent, the slip of the linen through itself, three cautious pulls and your gown is sagging on one side, the collar falling until your nipple is almost exposed. You gulp and try to look up to Katsuki, but his jaw is set, even grinding a bit in concentration as he keeps his gaze centered firmly on the bow he’s set upon on your right shoulder. You study him, looking for any indication that he’s anxious, or pleased, or disinterested, but he’s an unreadable mask of focus as his large fingers tug on the bow. It slides loose as easily as the first one had, and your gown slips from your body and crumples around your feet on the floor.

Katsuki sucks in a sharp inhale, forced to take in the sight of your naked body now that he’s finished his task. You watch intently as his eyes drag over every part of you, slow and savory, nostrils flaring and pupils dilating. You’re so exhilarated by his wild eyes taking you in, you almost forget to be insecure, to be nervous. This is something you might grow to enjoy, you think; Katsuki’s carefully concealed appetite.

“Am I alright?” You feel your mouth form the words, hear them float into the charged air. You don’t think you meant to ask, but once it’s out, you’re glad you did. It may be a politically-made marriage bed, but as fate would have it, your crown sits upon the head of a young woman, a young woman looking into the eyes of the man that would have her for his own, wanting to be thought of as a thing to be admired. Katsuki’s eyes flicker back to yours, and his brows knit together.

“Alright?” Katsuki’s eyes leave yours once more, and he meets his own gaze with a bold hand on your hip, thumb rubbing circles over your hipbone. “You’re more than alright, but you already know that.”

You feel so small, so silly when you tell him: “I was hoping you’d be the one to remind me.”

Katsuki understands then, meets your fixed look upon his face and lets that molten desire cool into something more digestible, easier to hold, and then he speaks. “Iksā gevie, ñuha ābrazȳrys.”

When you’d learned the Old Tongue as a child, you’d been taught to purr the sounds, to run them together like the slow, controlled flow of ink from the end of a feather. You learned to curl the consonants behind your teeth and let them breathe the same air for a beat, to birth the sounds into the world off of your tongue instead of simply pushing the air out. But when Katsuki speaks the Old Tongue it’s…a growl, forceful and quaking with restrained power. Raw and godlike, the words sound like they were written with his low rasp in mind.

Wife. His beautiful wife. Your breath hitches in your throat at the same time as a vicious swell of desire rips through you, mouth beginning to hang ajar. Katsuki frowns slightly, tilts his head.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“Take me, then,” you say, breathless from your own courage. Katsuki’s eyes widen, and if you could see clearly through your own sudden lust, you’d see the corner of his mouth twitching. “Make me your wife.”

“I will,” Katsuki comes closer, speaking not smugly, but matter-of-factly. He slides one hand around your waist, thumbs at your chin with the other. “But there’s an order to these things.”

No sooner have you opened your mouth to protest Katsuki’s condescension than he’s closing the wide gap between his height and your plush, open lips, pressing his mouth to yours, and your mind goes quiet. You’ve been kissed upwards of a dozen times at this point, something you were proud to remind your ladies-in-waiting of this morning while they giggled and squealed about your big night with the general. A few princes, a handful of noblemen’s sons, the expected suspects. All your ladies had said in return was “Those are boys. The general is a man. You’ll see the difference.”

There’s nothing demanding or unkind in the way his fingers are pressing into the plush curve of your hip, but it’s firm, steady in a way you’ve never dreamed about being held. His hand spreads across your jawline, keeping you tilted up and open for him to move his mouth against. There’s none of the hurried pecking, no errant tongue forcing its way between your teeth before you can even offer– Katsuki’s a man. You understand now, understand your handmaidens’ flushed cheeks and the way they fanned themselves theorizing about whether your new husband was as ruthless in bed as he was on the battlefield. Katsuki makes a fire catch behind your ribs, a desperate urge to impress, to keep your now horrifyingly-apparent lack of experience under wraps.

You bring a hand to the back of his neck, willing yourself not to tremble, and card your fingers through the close-cropped hair, smiling when Katsuki’s lips stutter against your own. His grip on you tightens, one big hand slipping to the nape of your neck and pulling you flush against him. His tongue slips into your mouth, tasting like ceremonial wine and something mannish and mature; you’re hardly able to swallow the gasp that threatens to reveal how the pit of your stomach is beginning to curl in on itself. Your breasts are pressed tight against his chest, only separated from his skin by his linen tunic. The fabric kisses your sensitive nipples, brushing against the untouched skin, and despite yourself, you whimper pathetically into his waiting mouth, cheeks warming.

Katsuki pulls back, to your disappointment, and you begin to chew at your lip, frantically thinking through the last several minutes to wonder what you’ve done wrong. Had you been too forward, touching him back so quickly? Your fretting dies down quickly when you see that Katsuki’s only stepped back to finger the hem of his tunic, ripping it over his head. You only have a moment to catch a blurry flash of honed muscle and scarred skin before he’s back on you, calloused hands wrapping around your hips. It only takes a few moments of him kissing you, of your fingers dragging absentmindedly up his veiny forearm, before you ask him for what you want, palms pressed flat against his chest and pushing lightly.

His brows knit together, and his eyes flicker over your face, searching for any sign of discomfort. You take a deep inhale, hoping to hide how rapidly you’ve lost your breath to him, steeling yourself to look him in the eye.

“I want to see you.”

Katsuki’s face screws up almost comically, and he tilts his head.

“See me?”

“See you.”

You take a step back, keeping your hands on his arms, holding him just where you want him and– is it a sight. He’s sharper than you would have imagined, deep grooves carving into his skin where his muscles bulge beneath it. You suck in a sharp breath as you let your eyes move slowly from his hardened stomach to his broad chest, little nicks dotting his skin where a stray swordtip had punctured armor, and a particularly nasty gash cutting across his front, stretching from his shoulder to his ribcage. It looks like it should have been fatal. Katsuki crosses his arms over his chest, maybe in an attempt to stop you from ogling him like you are, but it’s counterproductive; all he’s done is give you a golden opportunity to watch the skin of his arms stretch to accommodate the way his biceps swell and shrink with the movement, the twitching and flexing of each individual muscle laid bare for you to see clearly.

When your gaze finally returns to his face, you almost want to snort at his expression: pink cheeks, a scrunched nose, and eyebrows lifted to indicate just how entirely unimpressed he is with your drooling.

“Done ‘seeing’ me?” Katsuki asks, mouth lifting in just the smallest hint at a smile. Your heart flutters lightly in your chest; it’s the first attempt either of you have made at humor since your betrothal, and it’s hugely relieving to have something to smile about.

“It was only fair that I take my turn,” you say, gesturing down at your bare skin. Katsuki’s lips lift a little more until his gaze lowers; his eyes darken as he lets himself take you in. You can see the same thought crossing his mind just as it occurs to you: you belong to each other now, every bit of skin, muscle, heart that you’re bearing to each other isn’t just your own anymore. That scrunch in his nose, the scar across his chest, the way he narrows his eyes to study you. It all belongs to you now.

Katsuki steps forward, letting his hand interlace with yours, fingers hanging in the spaces between your own.

“Are you ready?” His question is no more than a puff of air against your forehead, both of you mercifully standing so close that you aren’t forced to look in his eyes when he asks.

“Yes.” Your voice shakes despite your attempt to be resolute in your answer, and you tighten your fingers around his in apology. It’s all new.

Katsuki kisses you again, slower and warmer than last time. It’s not desperate or hurried, but it is sensual, a promise of what awaits you when he lays you down on your bed. You sigh into his mouth, growing comfortable now with the feel of him on you; so comfortable, even, that you don’t notice he’s been backing you up until your back hits the poster of the bed, effectively pinning you between the hard, ebony wood, and Katsuki’s strong chest.

Your confinement does something to him. It’s immeasurably minute, the way his breath seems to puff out a bit heavier, the sudden jerk of his fingers into your hips, but it’s there.

“When you said you had experience…” Katsuki says, voice gravelly and dangerously close to a pant, “what did you mean by that?”

“I–” you pause, swallowing thickly around the growing lump in your throat, “I’ve been kissed, and I’ve…been touched.” You settle on that, hoping he grasps what you’re suddenly too shy to say.

“Did he make you cum?” He asks it so quietly, you almost wonder if you’ve heard him correctly, but you do hear him, and your chest caves in on itself as the breath leaves your lungs. You’ve snickered over such things with trusted girl friends, your ladies in waiting, but to hear it so gruffly, from the lips of a man—your new husband, no less—is a shock to your system.

“I think so,” you murmur, hardly able to form the words. You can’t see him, his head hunched over your shoulder and his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear, but you can practically feel him frown.

“If he had, you would know so.” Katsuki presses a soft kiss on the cartilage of your ear, travels down to bring your earlobe between his lips. He moves farther down, kissing gently down the slope of your neck, so slowly as if not to scare you.

“How would I know?” You can’t believe you’ve even dared to ask the question, not entirely sure you’ve prepared yourself well enough to hear his answer. Katsuki sucks in a sharp breath against your collarbone, pausing his ministrations where he’d begun to lick and suckle at the prominent angle of it. Your face warms as you realize how deeply his faint touches have begun to affect you, how your chest is beginning to swell and sink with heavy breaths, how your skin tingles and sparks in anticipation of the next absentminded swipe of his knuckles, of the light pressure of his mouth.

“I can show you,” he whispers, and the world stops turning for a moment, “if you’d like.”

“Yes,” you breathe out before you can think better of yourself. You trust his hands, the steady way that they graze the curve of your hip and splay out against the small of your back. He’s stable and unwavering, keeping you afloat.

Katsuki nods against your shoulder, almost imperceptibly, and brings one of those strong hands up between your shoulderblades. He spreads his fingers out, forcing your back to arch for him, and brings his free hand up to your chest, pausing when he’s only a hair’s breadth from your breast. His eyes meet yours, a concentrated divot appearing between his eyebrows as he searches your face for any signs of discomfort. You arch into his touch, surprising even yourself with your boldness, and your jaw drops a bit at the sensation of his rough palms on your soft, supple breast.

Your eagerness spurs him to action, and he bends at the waist, scattering a litter of kisses across the top of your chest. You hold your breath as he dips lower, but your attempt to remain silent fails entirely when he closes his lips around your peaked nipple. A horribly broken whimper slips from your lips, and you squirm, though whether your body’s trying to push you into or away from the wet heat of his mouth you can’t tell.

Katsuki’s mouth stretches into a ghost of a smile around your flesh, or so you think, until his teeth graze your nipple properly and a quiet cry bursts from you. He smiles fully with your breast still between his teeth. His hand holds your back firmly in its bowed position as he moves to your other breast, twisting his tongue around your nipple there and kissing gently along the fat curve of the underside. He continues his descent, grazing his lips over your stomach, and you don’t realize he’s on his knees until he’s suckling softly on your hipbone, one hand now sprawled over your stomach. Katsuki rubs his thumb over the top of the thatch of hair between your legs, almost reverently, and it makes you regain your bearings, gulping.

“W-what are you doing?” You nearly cringe at the sound of your own voice, words syrupy and thick on your tongue.

Katsuki raises a cautious eyebrow, pulling back from the slight bruise he’s begun to place upon your hipbone. He’s still moving carefully, ghosting over where he wants to touch you as a warning before pressing his skin fully to yours, unwilling to spook you just yet, but something’s quickly changing in him. His jaw ticks as he considers you, looking down on where he kneels between your legs with wide eyes.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Katsuki asks back, looking genuinely confused. Your cheeks are aflame.

“You’re on your knees.” It sounds too simple as it leaves your mouth, an insult to your own intelligence, and you scowl in frustration, looking off to the side. The quiet chuckle between your legs snaps your attention back to Katsuki.

“I’m on my knees,” Katsuki agrees, leaning in and brushing his lips against your inner thigh, sending a full-body shudder racking through you, “for you. Do you…not like it?”

Your mind, foggy in the places you’re accustomed to using and glaringly sharp in useless departments like, for example, the way Katsuki’s eyes are glinting dangerously in the low light, struggles to find an answer for his question. You do like it, seeing this hulking, powerful man kneeling before you, tucking his chin up to the supple flesh of your thigh and blinking up at you curiously, but not for any reason that you can put your finger on.

“I didn’t say that,” you say carefully, willing your senses to come back to you. “I just…you look like you’re planning something.”

Another cutting half-smirk flashes across his face, gone as soon as it appears. “You’ve never been tasted before, have you?”

“Tasted?” You try to keep your face from showing your shock and confusion; surely he’s not about to do what you think he is. Katsuki hums an affirmative, placing another kiss to the clammy crease of your thigh and your cunt, a gasp ripping from your throat before you can stop it.

“Do you not want me to?” Katsuki tilts his head, expressionless. You try to find the answer to his question on his face, but he’s blank, leaving the decision entirely up to you. “It’ll help with the pain.”

The pain, that’s right. Soon, he would be taking you for his own, stretching your body in a new way that you’d heard the whispers about: bloody bedsheets, sore between the legs, pleading for the end. You chew into your bottom lip, considering your options.

“Do you want to?”

“I do,” Katsuki says, eyes dark and unreadable, “I want to make you feel good. But we’re doing this on–”

“My terms,” you finish for him, nodding, “I remember.”

“Good.” Katsuki nods, and you try desperately to ignore the heat that thrums through you. “So, if you don’t want it, I won’t. Simple as that.”

You think for a brief moment. Katsuki’s admitted to wanting something of you, of your body, perhaps for the first time since you’d gotten him wrapped up with you. You repeat his words over and over in your head, trying to make sense of them. I want to make you feel good.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Katsuki knits his brows.

“I want to try it,” you say, and add with a shaky exhale, “being tasted.”

If you’re not mistaken, Katsuki’s shoulders shiver between your legs, his eyes glazing over a little at your words. You feel pride ringing in your chest, seeing him uncoil, even if it’s only the slightest bit. You’d chosen correctly. Much as he did when you asked him to undress you, Katsuki nods tensely, and he moves deeper between your legs, nudging your knees apart for himself.

“It’ll feel good,” he murmurs quietly, picking up one of your legs and draping it over his shoulder, “but if you want me to stop, tell me, alright?”

You nod down at him, knowing that every bit of your nerves at being so exposed is showing all over your face. Katsuki flits his gaze down to your cunt, glistening in the candlelight and humiliatingly wet from his touch, and you can see him bite into the inside of his cheek, see his eyes flutter closed. Despite your embarrassment, you’re keen on watching, learning from him. Katsuki leans in, and his tongue slides between your wet folds, but even over your choked noise of surprise, one thing rings clear in your mind at the startling new sensation.

Katsuki groans, louder than you’ve ever heard, languid and gratified, face pressed so firmly into your center that you can already feel his shadow of stubble scratching the insides of your thighs. His hand, wrapped around the thigh over his shoulder, suddenly tightens, fingers digging into the meat of your leg much harder than he’s touched you yet. You focus on the muscles of his jaw, tensing and straining on the side of his face, while he licks into you like a man starved.

The way he eats you is such a deviation from his feather-light touches that you almost can’t believe it’s the same man, lewd noises echoing throughout the room as he suckles on something between your legs that you hadn’t even discovered properly for yourself, only swiping at it blindly in the darkest hours in your chambers. Your back curves viciously, breathy moans spilling from your lips, fingernails clawing into the ornately-carved posts of your marriage bed. Katsuki holds you tight against him, eyes hooded in bliss and mouth moving ceaselessly against you.

You’ve snuck a hand down between your legs before, rubbed shyly at the growing wetness, at the swollen skin, and experienced maybe a glimmer of the feeling that’s now glowing hot in the pit of your stomach. You would almost feel panicked at the spiraling, swooping sensation; that is, if you weren’t so wholly consumed by the white-hot pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Katsuki– I, it’s so– oh,” you trail off, losing your words as Katsuki establishes a rhythm of flicking his tongue between your legs right on that damned spot that you wish you’d known about before, maybe you could have prepared– “Oh, Katsuki, it’s– so good.”

Katsuki elicits a sound that’s closer to a snarl than anything else you can think of, tightening his iron grip into your skin. One of your hands absentmindedly fists in his hair, and before you can find the presence of mind to rip it away, he moans, openly and unashamedly, eyes screwing shut. He likes it, your foggy mind realizes, and you dig your fingers in harder, anchoring what’s left of you to the earth using the straight, sandy locks.

The heat, the sparks that are flying around every nerve ending in your body, begins to pick up an overwhelming speed, and all of the sudden, you feel like you need to kick out, to curl in on yourself, to scream so loud the windows blow out.

“Katsuki,” you say desperately, making watery, scared eyes at him. Katsuki’s brow furrows, and he only holds his pace, red eyes glaring into yours. You’re trying to warn him, but no words will form, and you can’t catch your breath, panting and clawing at his hair and almost sobbing until–

Everything peaks. A broken cry comes shooting out of your throat, your standing leg threatening to give out under you, and you writhe and twitch on Katsuki’s face, shamelessly surrendering to the most intense tidal wave of pleasure you’ve experienced in your life. From the fuzzy peripherals of your consciousness, you can hear Katsuki groaning encouragingly into your wet cunt, still dutifully moving his tongue against you and smearing the evidence of your arousal all over his cheeks. When the world comes back into focus, it’s dazzlingly harsh, your muscles weakening as soon as Katsuki’s face clears into its typical arrangement of sharp angles and hard lines.

“Oh–” you gasp, your one good knee finally buckling underneath you. Luckily, Katsuki has already begun to stand, and one of his strong arms darts out, catching you around the waist. You wish he wouldn’t look so smug.

“How do you feel?” Katsuki asks innocently enough, but even in the aftermath of that,  you don’t miss the twitching at the corner of his shining mouth, the expectant arch of his eyebrow.

“Good,” you pant, willing your cheeks to lose even a portion of their heat, “it was– fine.”

“Fine?” Katsuki’s eyebrow raises fully, disbelievingly.

“It was good,” you reaffirm, glaring at him. Katsuki grins brightly, the most light you think you’ve ever seen enter his face. It makes you blush almost as hard as the orgasm he dragged you through. Something wild and wicked flickers in your mind, and you look up at him curiously. “Do you…do you want me to do that to you?”

Katsuki’s smile drops as quickly as it came, and his cheekbones darken, a deep flush spreading over his face. You almost wonder if you’ve misstepped, upset him in some way, until you catch him palming over his pants. Your throat tightens.

“No,” he says, all the mirth drained from his face, “no, you don’t have to– no.”

“Alright,” you acquiesce, transferring your weight from Katsuki’s firm grip around your waist back to your feet, finding your legs weak and shaky beneath you. Your gaze floats over your shoulder, back to the plush sheets of your marriage bed, and Katsuki clears his throat, backing away a step so you have the room to climb into the bed, lay yourself down.

You’d expected to feel shyer, but there’s surprisingly no urge to curl in on yourself, not even Katsuki’s eyes take you in, darkening in the candlelight. The aftershocks of pleasure— white-hot, addictive pleasure he’d introduced you to— are still echoing through your limbs, and you’re just curious enough to bite back your initial trepidation. You want to know what else he has to teach you.

Katsuki begins tugging at the laces keeping his pants snug around his waist, loosening them and shooting you one final look, one last assurance. His eyebrow is cocked questioningly, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he looks a little nervous. You nod, holding a breath deep enough in your lungs that it aches, and his pants hit the floor.

You’ve seen naked men, here and there, over the course of your life, and your ladies had described enough of the act before you that you can’t find yourself shocked at the sight, but more so at the wanton aching that ricochets through your limbs, chill bumps erupting over your arms and shoulders rolling of their own accord. You don’t have much to go by, but you’re fairly sure he’s big comparatively, so hard that the tip is an angry shade of red. Katsuki climbs over you before you have much chance to look further, but the damage is done; a fresh wave of arousal courses through you, and you widen your knees to let him situate himself.

“I’m going to get you ready,” Katsuki says between chaste kisses to your lips. “Is that alright?”

“But you already–,” you feel frustrated at your own inexperience, knitting your brow at him, “I’m ready.”

“You’re not,” Katsuki assures you, and before you can bite back another retort, his battle-scarred fingers are rubbing softly through the mess between your legs, and your jaw falls slack. Katsuki’s monitoring you for any signs of unease, eyes bright and focused on your face. You’re wet enough that he’s sliding through your folds easily, meeting little resistance as he rubs tight, concentrated circles into that spot that he’d used to make you see stars earlier. “Do you trust me?”

“Mhm.” It’s all you can manage to hum an affirmative, biting back the breathy noises trying to break free of your throat. It’s a wonder, how so little effort from him has your blood molten in your veins, limbs pliant and muscles twitching.

Katsuki’s fierce gaze doesn’t let up, but you understand why when you feel it: a finger, presumably, stretching you in a new, uncomfortable way. You’re unable to contain the gasp that bleats out of you, eyes flying wide, and Katsuki’s hand stills, eyes squinting as he tries to determine the nuances of your reaction. It’s novel, and admittedly, makes you a bit restless, but it isn’t unpleasant, and embarrassingly, your hips cant up into his hand, answering for you. Katsuki works slowly, never ceasing the small circles he’s rubbing into you, letting the discomfort align with the deliberate, savory pleasure that’s now ever-present in your core. When he begins to move his finger in and out of you, working you open, you realize it feels good, more than good, even.

“Alright?” Katsuki asks, distrusting of the whimpers and shaky moans beginning to fall from your lips. “Talk to me.”

“It’s strange,” you admit, words fragile and breathy in the space between your lips, “but I like it, it feels good. Really good.”

Katsuki hums approvingly, teases your entrance with the rough pad of a second finger. He arches his eyebrow at you, the question hanging silent, but clear between you. The prospect is daunting, but you welcome it; he’s already shown you so much, made you feel so much. You trust him, nodding eagerly.

“Please.”

Katsuki works his second finger in, grinding his jaw when you choke on a moan, rolling your hips into his palm. He nods, letting you wriggle your hips around as you need to, to ease the stretch of him inside of you. You can feel the power behind the lightness of his touch, eyes flitting down to the strained, corded muscle of his forearm as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. He’s holding back, and when you think wildly of what might happen the day he doesn’t have to anymore, your body clenches around him.

Katsuki pulls a face at you, amused. “What is it?”

“What?” You pant, feeling that knot begin to tie in on itself tighter and tighter behind your bellybutton.

“Y’liked something, thought of something,” Katsuki studies you, mouth quirking up into a little half-smile, “I could feel it.”

If you were any more present, you’d be mortified, but all you can do is reach a hand to stroke along the bulge of his bicep, dig your teeth into your bottom lip.

“Was thinking about you,” you admit shyly, trying to force your words to come out a little less broken than you know you sound, “you’re strong.”

“I am strong,” Katsuki agrees, curling his fingers against something inside of you that makes you jerk, makes him smirk at you.

“You’re holding back on me.”

“I am,” he says, placing a kiss to your shoulder, “you’re not ready for it. Need to go slow this time.”

“One day you won’t,” you say, mustering all the strength your hazy mind has to offer to look him squarely in the eye, watch his reaction. Katsuki inhales sharply, eyes widening at your boldness, only to narrow at you, predatory and curious. His fingers have stilled momentarily, and you pull your stomach muscles, jerking your hips up against his hand, frustrated. Katsuki only glares down at you, jaw ticking.

“One day I won’t,” he finally answers you, pulling his fingers from where you’re throbbing and needy. You almost whine, but bite into your lip before the admission of desperation flies from you. “If that’s what you want.”

You don’t have the chance to answer before Katsuki’s sucking his own fingers into his mouth, sucking you off of them. Your jaw stutters, and you gape at him as his eyelids flutter, a low groan rumbling in his strong chest.

“Taste good,” Katsuki says, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world, “sweet.”

“Can I try?” The question flies from your lips before you can even think to contain it, and your eyes grow even larger, shocked at your own debauchery. You’re seconds away from stuttering out an apology when Katsuki’s massive hand appears in front of your face, fingers glistening in the candlelight.

“Here.” Katsuki offers his fingers to you, eyes dark and hungry. You only stare at him for a moment, trying to discern if you’ve done something horribly wrong, but he’s completely sincere, brushing his wet fingers along your bottom lip. You open your mouth, suck him in. It’s more viscous than you would have imagined, sticky and thick on your tongue, but it’s pleasantly gamey; a little bitter, a little sweet. You don’t realize that you’re suckling on Katsuki’s fingers until he groans again, deep in his throat, gritting his teeth.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly, pulling his hand free from your lips.

“What’d you think?” Katsuki regains his composure quickly, tilting his head at you with something impish sparkling in his eye.

You’d chosen your new husband due to his unwavering dedication to the kingdom that he’d sworn his life to protect, his kingly attributes that had set him so far apart from your other, softer suitors. You hadn’t even thought to consider what other sides to him might be lurking beneath the formidable exterior of decorated general; could it be so that the red-cheeked, boyish creature above you, so intent on helping you explore your body, was the fierce warrior that had supposedly cut down over a hundred enemy soldiers entirely on his own?

“I liked it,” you say, biting into the smile starting to grow on your face. The way his eyes light up makes you feel like a vixen, like somehow, you can be a woman after all. “Everything is…it feels good.”

Something virile glints in Katsuki’s eyes, but you don’t shy away, holding his gaze. “Good.”

“I want to…I want you to have me. I want to have you.” You’re not even sure if you’re making sense, tongue heavy and useless in your mouth. Katsuki’s hand has wandered back down between your legs, rubbing lazily at the wetness there, and it’s got that steady heat creeping back through your limbs, setting your nerves on fire.

“You’re sure?” Katsuki asks, raising his eyebrow at you. All the mischief has drained from his face as he examines you, and while you appreciate his caution, the craving for something more is growing uncomfortable.

“Please,” you say, tilting your chin up to press your lips gently to his in reassurance. Katsuki is finally convinced, it seems, because he rolls off of you and settles his back against the headboard, reaching an errant arm over to tug you on top of him.

You hadn’t anticipated this; Katsuki’s set you right on top of his hips, your dripping cunt placed firmly against his hard cock, back ramrod straight from the sudden exposure, nipples peaked in the charged air. The feel of him pressing insistently against where your body needs him most makes your head spin; you hadn’t expected it to be so distinct, hard and thick beneath you.

“What are you–”

“It’ll be easier this way,” Katsuki says, looking very much like he’s putting all his effort into appearing unaffected, but only a moment ago, you felt his hips twitch upwards into yours, “you can control it.”

“I don’t– I don’t know how to do it. Not the right way, I mean.” You’re burning in your humiliation, hot in so many different ways now you aren’t sure if you could even count them, but you’re bared completely to him, and you figure your dignity was left somewhere crumpled on the floor with your consummation gown.

“Don’t worry about that,” Katsuki says sternly, looking so unbelievably flustered that if you were any less preoccupied, it would make you giggle, “not yet. You need to get used to having something inside you, first.”

Something inside you; him, thick and hard and drooling wetness onto his bellybutton. That’s right. You take a deep breath to steady yourself, doing everything in your power to ride the wave of exhilaration going through you. You roll your hips experimentally, once, twice, swallowing the gasp that aches to leave your jaw.

“Just like that,” Katsuki mumbles, so quietly you almost think you hadn’t heard him, “take your time.”

You take his advice, bracing your clammy hands on his neck. You grind down on him again, feeling sparks of pleasure shoot up your body. With each swipe of your hips, you can feel your cunt grow wetter, feel that bottomless want in your stomach open a little more. The growing hunger in you is primordial, some hidden part of your mind directing you. The urge to have something inside of you, to feel full in a way you can’t begin to imagine, is causing you to grow restless, fingers drumming anxiously on Katsuki’s shoulders. When you meet his eyes, a muscle feathers in his jaw, but he stays silent, hands placed gently on your hips as he watches you grow accustomed to his girth, the weight of him between your legs.

“I think I’m ready. Can I?”

Katsuki stays silent, only nods sagely in assent. His grip on your hips grows tighter as you lift yourself up, reaching down blindly to grip him. He sucks in a breath when your fingers wrap around the length of him, and your eyes flit to his in alarm, but he only shakes his head, brow furrowing.

“Go ahead.”

You nod back, wincing at the anticipatory trembling of your thighs on either side of his hips, pulling his cock up from his stomach. You rather like the smooth feel of the skin in your hands, and you think briefly that maybe this will be something to revisit later, having him needy and in the palm of your hand. The swollen head catches, and you almost gasp at the surprise of it, how a dull thud of satisfaction rings through your body. You inhale deeply, and begin to sink down.

Katsuki’s fingers dig into your hips even harder, but you hardly feel it over the incomparable stretch between your legs. You’re sure now that he’s big; he has to be, the way it feels like your very insides are moving to accommodate him. You’re trying not to huff at the feeling, but a whine escapes you, and Katsuki’s tight grip stops you just as you’re nearing the halfway point.

“Okay?” He’s tense, coiled like a snake, all the muscles in his strong body locked, but his eyes are concerned.

“Uh huh,” you manage, wiggling your hips around and dropping yourself down a couple more inches, making you both gasp, “s’just big.”

“Fuck,” Katsuki hisses, throwing his head back. You pause, body contracting around him in your attempt to take him wholly, only a short distance from the blonde hair at the base of his cock.

“Is everything alright?”

“Can’t say shit like that,” Katsuki grits out, voice hoarse. You realize with a slow, muggy blink that you haven’t yet heard him swear, not in the Common Tongue, haven’t yet seen him become so unraveled and yet, at the same time, so rigid. It’s affecting him, that instinctual part of your brain supplies, it feels good for him.

If you were any less dazed, you’d smile. Katsuki Bakugou, High Commander of the fiercest army the world has seen in over a century, famed warrior an ocean over, is practically twitching trying to bite back his own pleasure as you take him inside of you. The rush of adrenaline that thought sends through you gives you the motivation to let yourself go, nestling the entirety of him deep inside yourself and meeting his hips. You choke on a moan, eyes prickling with tears.

“Oh,” you pant, lifting yourself just a bit, trying to squirm away from the discomfort.

“Does it hurt?” Katsuki grunts, eyes running over every bit of your body.

“No, it’s just,” you keen again, interrupting yourself with breathy, whiny little noises, “full.”

Katuski makes a noise that you think was meant to be a hum of agreement, but only comes out as a growl. If the white in his knuckles and the sharp, tense bone of his jaw is anything to go by, his arousal is only barely being held back, restricted to a tight leash. You’re not his first, not the only wet warmth he’s buried himself in, and this isn’t at all the first time he’s experienced this white-hot, carnal pleasure that’s licking up your veins. You find the strength to blink back the budding tears in your eyes, to really look at him.

He’s holding it together well, fingers grounded where they dig into your fleshy hips, crimson eyes looking you up and down, taking you in, but like the quiet snap of embers in the background, ruining the illusion of the room’s heat emanating from you and Katsuki, his body betrays him. His muscles are jumping under his skin, twitching involuntarily like the hide of one of the cavalry’s prize stallions, ready to run. Katsuki’s fucking a princess in his mind, you think, a future queen, and he’s proceeding accordingly, trying to keep his caresses light and his infamous temper in check.

You blink at him, vision watery, and realize suddenly that, for the first time in your life,  you want to be a hot-blooded, wild, mortal. You want only to be a woman with a man inside of her, and you want to be regarded as such.

“Still doin’ alri–” Katsuki cuts himself off with a grunt when you roll your hips, biting back a wince at the unfathomable pressure in your stomach, the depth of him snug inside you. “Wait–”

“I’m fine,” you say, surprising even yourself at your sharpness. Confidence swells in your chest as he squirms under you, kissing away the burn of how he’s worked you open.

“But–”

“Eminna skoros iksis ñuhon,” you say down to him, looking upon your new husband with hooded eyes as you grind your hips down into him, adjusting to the strange stretch that accompanies his body inside of yours. Each movement of your hips into his makes it easier, soothes the slow throb of your body trying to make room for him. Pleasure begins to ignite again along your fingertips, and when you scoot forward a bit, pushing your hips back, his cock nudges something inside of you that makes your jaw drop.

Katsuki’s eyes widen momentarily, but you can see the moment he loosens the leash, succumbs to his baser instincts. His grip on your hips loosens, shoulders slackening, and his eyes darken, lids dropping a bit just to cover the tops of those crimson irises. He’s beautiful, godlike even, planes of hardened muscle at your command, the flames from the candles reflected in his eyes. Katsuki drags his gaze over you, nostrils flaring, bringing one hand up to the back of your neck and pulling you to him, pressing your foreheads together. The shift in him makes you gasp; the calm force with which he chooses to exert his strength.

“Lo emilā nyke, emagon nyke,” Katsuki says against your lips, all trepidation gone. You shudder in his arms, letting pleasure wrack down your spine like fire catching. “Yn eminna ao, hae sȳrī, dārilaros.”

Your blood sings at the low purr of the Old Tongue, poured into your mouth like a fine wine, but you curdle at Dārilaros. Princess. “Eman daor pāletilla skori iksā iemnȳ yno. Iksan iā ābra, iksan aōha ābrazȳrys.”

Katsuki nearly snarls, swears under his breath. “What did I tell you about saying shit like that?”

“You call me your wife,” you say, thoroughly pleased with yourself at his rapid unraveling. It’s never been like you not to have the upper hand. “Treat me as your wife.”

Even a hair’s breadth away from his face, you can see Katsuki’s last shreds of honor, that warrior’s heart, dying out. His eyes flicker over your face as you fruitlessly roll your hips, not able to get to the full extent of your pleasure with him gripping you so tightly. For the first time, you can feel his hands tremble against your skin. He’s only steps away from joining you in your damning mortality, finding the raw, primal humanity deep down inside of him. You rut your hips at him again, useless against his resolute grasp.

“Please,” you sigh against him, not even thinking to be ashamed of the breathy, needy plea you let out, not even wholly sure of what you’re begging him for, “make me feel good again.”

Katsuki groans, low in his chest, and nods, a covenant you’re building in the hot air between your mouths. His hands grab into your hips more fully, and he lifts you, only part of the way, before sliding you back down the length of him. You gasp into his mouth, caught off guard by the punch of him back up into the space he’s carved out for himself. It feels like he’s in your lungs, your breath coming out labored and pinched.

“Move,” Katsuki commands, settling back a bit and forcing you to sit up straight, hands on your ribcage. You’re bared completely to him again, and it’s still horrible, but the arousal dims any humiliation that threatens to rise. “Move.”

You wiggle your hips again, moving shakily along his cock, but Katsuki’s not pleased, evidently, as he digs his hands back into your hips.

“Like this,” he says, using his iron grip on you to correct your movements. Katsuki drags you up and down his cock in smooth, fluid motions, and despite the slowly-easing discomfort, your nerve endings come alight, the molten want finding a new peak as he rips a moan out of your throat.

“Oh–”

“Better?” Katsuki huffs, a vicious grin cutting across his face. Your arms flail a bit as he moves you, rolling you along his length as if you’re nothing more than a doll to him. Katsuki notices your awkwardness, takes one of your hands and places it firmly on your breast. You follow his lead, thumbing gently over one hard nipple, and, at the jolt of pleasure, you quickly bring your free hand to match on the other side, letting your head fall back.

“Katsuki,” you pant, quickly losing your composure and falling victim to the sensations devouring you, “it’s– that’s so good.”

“I know,” Katsuki breathes, still pulling you this way and that, “you’re perfect, so soft around me.”

You’ve never gotten to be soft; iron princess on the iron throne, made of embers and scalding steam, but for him? You bloom, pretty as a petal, letting your body meld into his like it was always supposed to be here. You’re not soft like silk, you let yourself be soft like candlelight, like magma, like the crashing of the ocean when you’re far enough away that the waves won’t get you, drag you under. Soft like doom.

“I feel– fuck, I think I– I need more.”

Katsuki’s lips twist at the breathless curse that flies from your lips, so foreign and funny-sounding in your regal mouth. You want to tease him right back, but he slides you off of him, and the loss is so devastating, your bottom lip nearly juts out as it did when you were a child. Before you can protest too much, Katsuki’s laying you on your back, hands sliding along your thighs, and you follow your instincts and bring your legs up to wrap around his waist.

“If it’s too much…” Katsuki trails off, losing his words when he goes to brush your bottom lip with his thumb and you suck him in voraciously, nibbling on his finger.

“I’ll tell you,” you promise, spitting him out and letting your own hand flutter across his cheekbone. He’s almost glaring down at you; so intense is the desire in his eyes that a small part of you wants to shy away, but you don’t. You wiggle your legs that much wider, arch your back, lean into the burn of him. You were born for the heat.

Katuski’s mouth quirks up in a little smile, already so fond it makes your chest ache, and he slides back into you, groaning when your cunt sucks him in greedily. You try to embrace the novelty of it, the dull throb of his cock splitting you wide, digging your nails into his arm by mistake. Katsuki swears in surprise, and you jerk your hand away, until he looks down at you admonishingly.

“Go ahead, perzītsos,” he hums, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your hairline, “I won’t break.”

He pulls back and thrusts back into you, harder than you’d expected, and your nails return to his wrist beside your head, digging half-moons into the pale skin. He’s different from this angle, not so agonizingly deep in you, but nudging against something inside you that renders you incapacitated, fuzzy-minded and pliant in his arms. Katsuki’s not faring any better than you, eyes hooded and little grunts slipping from his lips each time his hips connect with yours.

“What does it feel like?” Katsuki asks, beginning to look out of his mind with need. “Ivestragon nyke.”

“Deep,” you choke out, letting your jaw drop when he leans down to lick into your mouth, “full, I feel– full.”

“Good,” Katsuki mumbles, “good. Doesn’t hurt?”

“No.”

In answer, Katsuki moves his hips faster, snapping them against you with brute force. He’s keeping that ever-cognizant eye on you, monitoring you for any indication of pain or panic, but even through the haze of the tightening knot in the pit of your stomach, you can see him tumbling over the same edge that you have, lost to your baser instincts. You’re soft to him, your warm walls hugging him snug as he chases an end for you both, but sharp in the way your fingers claw into his skin, your teeth nip into his shoulder. Mine. Mine. Ñuhon.

“Katsuki,” you warn him, the balloon of pressure welling in your belly, growing so large you feel as though you might choke on it.

“I know,” he says, leaning down to press his forehead to yours. His voice is broken and ragged and tastes like hot coals, like copper and bronze and prophecy. You drink him down eagerly, so out of your mind with want that you’ve transformed. You’d entered the room as a blushing virgin of the highest, most noble bloodline, and here you are, twisting and keening under him, all molten limbs and whorish pants. Sweat dapples your forehead, drool smeared over your chin, and you’ve never felt more beautiful.

“I’m so– it’s the, the same,” you gasp, familiar words devolving into nonsense, “but it’s not enough, I don’t, I–”

“Here,” Katsuki growls, closing one strong fist around your wrist and sliding your arm between your writhing bodies, “just like I did it, remember?”

You find the same sensitive spot that Katsuki had shown you quickly, swollen and raw with pleasure, and try rubbing shaky circles over it, try to maintain some semblance of a rhythm and imitate his earlier movements. It’s uneven and inconsistent, but the added stimulation rockets through you, and your back pulls taut as a bow, arching off the featherbed.

“Close?”

“Yes,” you gasp, still not grasping what you’re close to, but feeling very much as though you’re teetering on the edge of a cliff, that same rushing building in your ears. You somehow had the presence of mind to register that what’s building inside of you now is different than it was with his mouth between your legs; it’s faster, wetter, fuller, and it feels like it’s choking you.

“Come on,” Katsuki urges you, bordering on a snarl as he pants desperately into your mouth, “want to feel you cum around me, feel this little cunt milkin’ my cock.”

“Kat–” you try to call out for him, so overwhelmed the edges of your vision are going dark. He’s grinding his hips into you forcefully, pinning your fingers to the apex of your cunt, forcing you to rub yourself harder. 

“You can do it, raqiarzy, come on–”

You cut him off with a loud sob of his name, thighs caging him in and the innermost walls of your body clamping down on him. Light bursts behind your eyelids, the white-hot flames of dragonfire and the embers of a burning forest exploding as your body is racked with wave after wave of bliss. Katsuki’s skin breaks under your fingernails, the slight dampness of tearing flesh familiar even in the haze of your orgasm. He works you through it, driving his hips into you despite the vicious tightening of your cunt around him, whispering affirmations into the pallid skin of your shoulder. Every muscle in your body contracts painfully, and you’d feel ashamed of the sounds escaping you if you could find enough wherewithal to care.

“Close,” Katsuki grits out, rolling his hips into your still-contracting cunt as your high begins to dwindle, “you ready for me?”

“Uh-huh, please, I– yes,” you babble nonsensically, interlocked ankles bouncing at the small of his back. As your orgasm drains from your veins, your muscles go lax, zapped of the fervent energy that had overtaken you. You find your body to be pliant and receptive, but your mind solely focused on watching that same ethereal pleasure that had possessed you wash over Katsuki. “Yes, I w-want you to cum.”

“Fuck,” Katsuki swears, hips stuttering, “take it, take it all–”

A guttural groan accompanies a sticky warmth flooding your insides; you squirm in his tight grip and moan at the sensation of being filled, feeling a fresh rush of arousal flow through you as you feel his cock twitching inside of you. You bite deep into his shoulder to muffle the pathetic mewls slipping from you at the feel of both his and your cum leaking out of your body, pooling in a little puddle underneath you. Everything is so earthy and musky; Katsuki’s salty skin between your teeth, his bruising grip into your hips, the stink of sex and sweat permeating the bedsheets.

Katsuki’s chest heaves against yours as his hips rock into you one last time, the thatch of blond hair at the base of him pressing against where you’re swollen and achy hard enough to make you whimper. When you wriggle around underneath him, he seems to snap back into himself, propping his upper body up on his elbows and bringing a hand to your face, thumbing over the arch of your cheekbone.

“Y’alright?” His carmine eyes are still glazed over, words gummy between his teeth, but the tenderness of his hand as he strokes your cheek lets you know he’s there.

“I’m alright,” you say, and you mean it. Something so deep in you that you don’t even have a name for is throbbing, and your body is still clenching and fluttering around where he’s softening inside of you, but your limbs are heavy and your head is in the clouds.

He’s a sight to see, a sight you commit to memory; sweat glistens on his pale skin, his eyes are hooded and sleepy, and a contented, lazy grin is starting to tug at the corner of his mouth. Katsuki pulls his hips back, pressing his lips to your temple in apology when you murmur something unintelligible, but hinting at discontent. You feel empty in a way you had never known you were supposed to, not until you’d learned what it meant to be fulfilled.

“Anything hurt?”

You shake your head, not sure how to verbalize that you’re not feeling any pain, but a deep-seated satiation that hints to the fact that you might never be able to lift yourself from the bed again. Katsuki’s still caging you in, heavy body crushing yours, when a jarringly unwelcome sound floats over his shoulder.

“Ah, um– Princess? I need to confirm–”

“I know,” Katsuki, sliding back into the skin of a general with ease, growls over his shoulder, “that you’re not daring to speak to my wife while she’s naked underneath me.”

Even given everything, your cheeks flare, and you shove at Katsuki weakly, making apologetic eyes at the attendant despite your humiliation. “It’s his job, Katsuki–”

“They can’t send a woman for this shit?” Katsuki cages you in even further, glaring at the servant who’s nearly shaking in his slippers. “Well?”

“I–I can fetch a female servant to confirm the consummation of the–”

“Do that, then.” The attendant’s soft footsteps as he scuttles away are hardly overshadowed by your breathy, tired giggles.

“You didn’t have to terrorize the poor man,” you swat lightly at Katsuki’s chest, “it’s his duty to confirm that the marriage has been consummated. The priests won’t have it any other way.”

“I’m sure he heard enough,” Katsuki grumbles, flopping onto his back beside you. He opens one eye, notices the sheet dragging dangerously close to your nipple, and tugs it up to your chin, closing his eye again and humming contentedly. His arm pauses for a moment, like he wants to stretch it over your shoulders, but he pulls it back by his own side, thinking better of it. You aren’t sure if you want to be held, if the intimacy outside of your duty as his new wife will be too grating against your already-raw nerves.

“My ladies will be here soon,” you say quietly, “to bathe me and help me prepare for bed.”

“Figured,” Katsuki grumbles, sounding entirely displeased at more people disrupting your peace. Something about it warms your heart, some small part of your mind hoping that his displeasure is rooted in a desire to keep you all to himself, hidden beneath the sheets.

“Your own attendants shouldn’t be far behind.”

“My what?” Katsuki sits up on one elbow again, looks down at you disbelievingly. “I don’t need any…ladies.”

“You’ll get used to them,” you tell him offhandedly, wondering if you’re being truthful. You’re just beginning to get acquainted with the intricacies of the man behind the title, but the general seems fiercely independent to you, and the image of him getting his hair scrubbed by a flock of servants is enough to make you chuckle to yourself.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you assure him, “I’m sure you’ll be a perfect royal specimen.”

Katsuki’s eyes narrow in irritation. “You didn’t inform me that ladies would be a part of my duties.”

“We can get men!”

“That’s worse.” Katsuki’s face screws up in an ugly scowl that makes you laugh outright. The lightness of your laughter makes his face fall a little, the hardened exterior giving way to the same man that had kissed reverently up the inside of your thigh, had been so achingly gentle with you when you weren’t sure what you would need to get through the night. A man you think you could love.

You look into each other’s eyes, something like starlight, like candlelight, like true, gods-given warmth buzzing between you, when the door creaks open, a gaggle of ladies and one priestess entering the room. Katsuki groans, tugs the blankets even further up your chests, the moment broken.

Ignoring his grumbles of protest, you pull yourself from the blankets with ease, baring your nude body to your ladies. There’s no shame in front of these women who have raised you, much to Katsuki’s astonishment. You don’t miss the way their eyes catch on the purple blooms on your hipbones, the way they squeal with excitement when you lay back and spread your legs for the priestess, displaying the thin trickle of Katsuki’s seed still steadily leaking from you. The priestess nods solemnly and leaves in the same manner; at least that’s done.

Your ladies do an absolutely dismal job of trying to appear subtle as they stare at Katsuki’s still-heaving chest, his narrowed eyes darting around the room suspiciously, his round biceps– your closest lady, Alanna, whisper-squeals in your ear about how huge your new husband’s arms are, and you have to pinch her cheek harshly to get her to stop, sensing Katsuki’s tangible discomfort from across the room. He behaves well as they bathe you, sitting up in bed and watching silently as you’re preened and fawned over, as your tangled hair has a brush torn through it and is twisted neatly into your nighttime braid.

A group of women hovering silently by the door, eyeing Katsuki nervously, appear to be his newly-appointed handmaids. You do both Katsuki and the women the favor of dismissing them for the night, unsure of how Katsuki, who is still gripping the sheets to his chest like a young, blushing maiden, will react to being pampered and scrubbed by foreign hands. 

“You can dismiss those serving girls for good,” Katsuki says gruffly, clean and ambling over to a looking glass to swipe a brush through his hair. “‘M not a boy, I don’t need any help getting myself to bed.”

You conveniently slide past the omission on the tip of your tongue– before Katsuki’s anxious staff had left, you had requested them to bring a hot bath, all of Katsuki’s bathing things from his old chamber, a freshly-dried sponge from the Narrow Sea for him to wash himself with. It’s enough to keep it to yourself, seeing how content he is in his new living space now, that you could do something for him amongst the chaos you’ve now thrown his life into.

“We’ll see,” you hum, picking at a stray cuticle over the covers and trying not to ogle him too obviously.

He’s still blessedly nude, unabashed in his swagger around the room as he dries himself with the strips of soft, woven cloth your ladies had left behind per your request. When he approaches the bed you’re laying in, you stiffen, unaccustomed still to these small intimacies. Royalty has proven to be a lengthy and lonely existence in your experience, and sharing it with someone is foreign to your solitary nature. Your own parents had had their own separate chambers, as every monarch before them. It was Katsuki’s one condition to accepting your proposal; you were to share bedchambers, like a common husband and wife.

“Princess?” Katsuki is hesitant when he approaches you, as if he already senses your trepidation. You will yourself to unclench your muscles, to relax your shoulders. You have no right to make him feel unwelcome in his own bed– the bed you now share.

“I told you I don’t want you to call me that.” You try to offer him a playful smile, but it only glimmers across your face. This is yet another bridge you need his guidance over.

“You did,” Katsuki nods sagely, the corner of his mouth twitching as he remembers the circumstance of that particular conversation, “I’m sorry, perzītsos.”

“Come to bed.”

“Are you sure?” Katsuki cocks an eyebrow at you, looking down at the huge bed warily.

“It was what you wanted.”

“Only if you want it.” Katsuki sighs deeply at your look of not-quite-belief and sits on the bed a respectable distance away from you. He reaches for your hand, a question, not a demand, and you slide your fingers into his calloused palm, humming contentedly when he runs his large thumb over your knuckles. He stays like that for a moment, contemplative and looking at your hand, bare of all of its usual finery and rings. “What did I say earlier?”

“When?”

“Before.” Katsuki raises his eyebrows enough that you catch his meaning.

“That we were doing things on my terms.” Something in your chest, warm and wet and laden with flowers, swells big and tight enough to pop.

“That didn’t just apply to, ah, earlier,” Katsuki coughs uncomfortably, flicking his eyes up to you, “that’s for all of this. Our…our lives are…the same now, and I don’t want you to think I need you– seven hells, that’s not what I meant–”

“You’re not very good at this, are you?” You interrupt him suddenly, a saccharine smile curling the corner of your lips. Katsuki flushes a vicious red, frowns and shakes his head in confirmation. “Neither am I.”

“No?”

“I haven’t suddenly found myself married before, so no.” It feels silly, all of the sudden, to have guarded yourself at all. Katsuki is many things, but above all, he is steady, a resolute rock against an angry ocean. “But while I feel many things about our…unexpected union, one thing I do not feel is alone. We can do this on our terms, not just mine.”

Katsuki nods again, looks back down to your hand in his, and cracks a wry smile. “This is why you’re the politician.”

“I’m a princess,” you deadpan, “not a politician.”

“But I can’t call you that,” Katsuki scoffs, rolling his eyes. The lightheartedness lifts the atmosphere in your bedchamber, oppressive with marital expectations and the stuffy heat of candles left burning too long, and it gives you the needed weightlessness to have your eyes slowly blinking closed.

“Exactly,” you agree matter-of-factly, stifling a yawn. “Will you call someone in to dispose of the candles?”

Katsuki snorts, pushing himself off the bed without answer. Before you can protest or feel hurt by his sudden abandonment, he crosses the room and bends at the waist, blowing out one of over two dozen candles. You can only watch in growing fondness and amusement as he huffs at each little flame, the room growing darker by the moment. By the time he’s finished, your eyes are hardly open, drifting shut as you sink into the pillows. A satisfied throb echoes through your body as you wriggle down beneath the sheets, the lingering evidence of Katsuki’s presence on and in you bringing a warmth to your cheeks even in the now-dark room.

The last thing you register as you slip into the beginnings of a heavy sleep is the dip of the bed behind you, and a thick, muscled forearm creeping stealthily over your waist.

“This alright?”

All you can muster is a tired mumble of acquiesce, nuzzling into the firm chest behind you. Katsuki chuckles quietly into your hair, a dark, soothing sound that has your mind careening towards sleep, eager to melt into this world of warmth and comfort in his arms.

“Ēdrū sȳrī, ñuha perzītsos.”

───── ⋆⋅ 𖤓 ⋅⋆ ─────

as promised, high valyrian translations here :)

Ānogar ānograro = "Blood of my blood."

Gevie = "Beautiful"

Iksā gevie, ñuha ābrazȳrys. = "You are beautiful, my wife."

Eminna skoros iksis ñuhon. = "I will have what is mine."

Lo emilā nyke, emagon nyke, yn eminna ao, hae sȳrī, dārilaros. = "If you will have me, then have me, but I will have you as well, princess."

Eman daor pāletilla skori iksā iemnȳ yno. Iksan iā ābra, iksan aōha ābrazȳrys. = "I have no crown when you are inside me. I am a woman, I am your wife."

Perzītsos = "Little flame"

Ivestragon nyke. = "Tell me."

Raqiarzy = "Beloved"

Ēdrū sȳrī, ñuha perzītsos. = "Sleep tight, my little flame."

[dresshistorynerd]

Ranking Men's Costumes in Period Dramas - Part II: The Good

Part I: The Bad

This is the second part to my ranking of men's costumes in Renaissance period dramas. I selected 10 shows and films which I think have great costuming for the female characters and ranked them according to their costumes for male characters. I have noticed that even when women's costuming is great, men's costuming might be absolutely dog shit. And that's very much what we saw in the first part, where I ranked the five worst entries. For some reason shows and movies are afraid to put men, especially the characters who are supposed to be cool, manly and hot, into historical costumes. And I'm not even asking for historical accuracy, I just don't want my male characters living in the actual 1500s in basically modern leather jackets and pants. Like I don't watch period dramas for vaguely historically inspired modern fashion, I watch it for the historical setting, which costumes help create. This time we will be looking some rare gems that actually imo have really good costuming even for the male characters. For the five best entries, we'll go from worst to best.

5. Eizabeth R (1971)

Elizabeth R is incredibly committed to historical accuracy in it's outfits, especially for queen Elizabeth herself, many of her costumes being directly recreated from her portraits. It covers the whole reign of Elizabeth, so this commitment is especially admirable as the timeline is more than 40 years, including a stark shift in fashion from less structured and more toned down Tudor fashion to the extremes of the highly structured Elizabethan fashion. It's not perfect, The hair is not always great and like many others they fail at French hoods, though they are not upward pointing or pseudo crowns detached from the hood, so could be much worse.

The men's costumes are also very good. They are faithful to history, they wear stockings, very short trunk hose, ruffs and even have some structuring in their doublets and jerkins. However, the reason this is not higher is that the men's costumes especially, but also many other costumes beside Elizabeth's are looking a little sloppy. There's some structure yes, but the men's silhouettes are just not bold enough and they end up looking a little costumy. Even the codpieces are shrunk so small I'm not even sure if they are there half the time. Cowardice. Here's two Robert Dudley's costumes and an actual portrait of him. I think the second costume is probably an attempt at recreation of that portrait, but it's just kinda halfway there.

4. Taming of the Shrew (1967)

This film is set in Renaissance Italy, the women's costumes fit well to 1520s-30s. They are honestly really great and cohesive. My only gripe is that their bodices have a very 1960s shape and the make-up is a little distractingly modern. But the costuming is not attempting to recreate historical accuracy, rather they took the historical silhouette and basic elements and crafted a very over the top but cohesive look. I honestly love these very much.

An interesting choice is made with the men's costuming, especially the main male lead, whose costume is based much more on the Renaissance German men's fashion of that period. His costumes resemble the over the top fashion of the German Landsknecht (first image below). In Italy (second image below) the doublets were also very voluminous and quite colourful but not to that extent as by the Landsknecht and literally no one, not even the other Germans, rocked that slashed style as hard.

This is not really criticism though. In fact I respect that choice a lot. His costumes are certainly not historically accurate, but they do fit the bombastic aesthetics of the overall costuming, they are loud, large and not afraid to fuck around. This man oozes sex-appeal much more than any character with some modern plain black pants and leather jacket. This is how you costume a Renaissance man who fucks.

3. Tulip Fever (2017)

I am stretching the definition or Renaissance here a bit, I admit. This movie is set during the 1630s tulip mania, by which point the remnants of Renaissance fashion had already been left to the previous decade. However, I do think most of the movies and TV set in Baroque era also struggle with the men's costumes. Though not as much, because black was fashionable for everyone, the cod piece was gone, trunk hose were replaced by more palatable Venetian hose, fashion was much more stripped down from embellishments, leather was not uncommon in jerkins and appeared even in doublets and hose and the Hollywood's beloved boots became actual fashion items. The men's silhouette in this period is very silly in my opinion and people seem to agree because it's usually skipped in costuming, but overall the period seems to fit modern masculinity standards much more easily than Renaissance era.

But I just really wanted to include this because the costuming is absolutely stunning (and let's be honest we are a bit desperate here trying to find 5 actually good examples). I have not watched the movie and probably never will because the post production was an absolute mess and it apparently came out as just a very bad movie, which is a shame, since the costumes are so good. The ruffs are perfectly crispy. The buttons are dense and look just right. The shoes, both boots and otherwise are so on point. The fabrics are honestly perfect. The silhouettes are just as goofy as they are supposed to be. And the women too have perfect silhouettes. All the details are just simply perfect. You rarely find costuming this meticulously created with historical details and great construction.

Honestly these top three could all be the best one. This final order was decided purely on which costumes I like more. And while I love the women's fashion of this period, I think the men's fashion is kinda stupid and boring, so I don't like these costumes on aesthetic level as much as the top two.

2. Romeo and Juliet (1968)

This movie is a perfect counterpart to the movie with the worst men's costuming which I talked about in the first post, Rosaline. They are both set in Italy around very end of 15th century and retell Romeo and Juliet. Both have very good costuming for female characters but obviously I think differ greatly in the male character costuming department. Romeo and Juliet costuming takes some artistic liberties to create a heightened reality quite similar to Taming of the Shrew costuming, but follows history much more closely. The colors are bright, the hose are tight, the giorneas are voluminous, the sleeves are long and massive and the cod pieces are prominent. Even the hair is perfect, even for women, they even use hairnets. I imagine the men's hair was quite easy to get right as hairstyles in 60s and 70s were basically lifted directly from 1400s Italian men's hairstyles. The men are even wearing appropriate goofy hats??? Amazing.

The costuming perfectly captures the era, but they still clearly had fun with it too. Honestly even though I appreciate the meticulously recreated historically accurate costuming, like in Tulip Fever, I tend to like more costuming that does take some artistic liberties to create a distinct look and atmosphere for the movie or TV show. There's some small things they don't get quite right, like having standard lacing instead of ladder lacing, metal eyelets (which would become a thing as late as in 1830s) and most egregiously Juliet in one scene has this very dumb supportive undergarment without even shift under it (first picture below)?? The outer garments were supportive during this era, there was no such thing as supportive undergarment which was any different from the outer kirtle (or gamurra in Italy). Shift was the only truly undergarment. But I will forgive these errors because the costuming is overall so fun and gorgeous. And they did get some details so so right, like look at Romeo's arming doublet (second picture below)! It has Lombardian sleeves!! This was a very specific style of arming doublet for this era and place. However those errors does prevent it from taking the first place. Which leads us to...

1. Orlando (1992)

This movie has Tilda Swinton in flamboyant Elizabethan men's clothing. That's all.

Okay, I that is all that needs to be said, but I will say more. This movie spans centuries and shows excellent costumes from several different periods, but I will focus on the Elizabethan costumes only for the sake of this post. The costuming is not super historically accurate in all the detailing, and clearly not trying to be, but it is always impeccable. Even while it takes artistic liberties and the story has an immortality fantastical element it still captures the men's fashion's silhouette much better than any other movie or TV show I know of set in this period. It does that better than the "we recreated these portraits" Elizabeth R. But what really makes this the best in my humble opinion, is that the movie is not afraid of the effeminate and emasculated modern perception of Renaissance men's fashion, no, it leans into it and uses it to explore the themes. The whole story is very much about gender and gender fuckery. Tilda Swinton plays the titular Orlando who is a cis man in Elizabethan era, becomes inexplicably immortal and later inexplicably turns into a woman for the rest of their several centuries. He is the embodiment of "I'm not sure if they are a butch or a twink" and as a bisexual I can only be grateful. But in all seriousness I think the costuming and the casting (queen Elizabeth is also played by a male actor) are so perfectly utilized to highlight the arbitrary construction of gender without needing to say it explicitly.

Conclusion

I have some closing thoughts. I took on this task as a way to show a point, which is that for some reason in Renaissance shows and film especially men's costuming is piss-poor, even when women's costuming is great. Male characters tend to have very bad costuming in Medieval media too, though this is also an issue for female characters. I don't think I have ever seen a Medieval show or movie with truly excellent costuming for anyone. In Renaissance media the issue is clearly not lack of skill or knowledge, they choose to do so. My thesis was that the producers think that the Renaissance men's fashion is too effeminate and too unsexy for the Hot Very Heterosexual Male Lead, who the mostly female audience are supposed fawn over like the female characters do. After the analysis think my hypothesis holds up.

Though there's an interesting trend I only noticed while doing this ranking; every entry (except the least bad) in the worst five list are from 21th century, and every entry (except Tulip Fever which is a little bit cheating anyway) in this best five list are from 20th century. I have some theories on why it turned out this way. First is that the studios have become increasingly more concerned with growing profits so they don't take risks and they put pressure on movies and TV shows to be as broadly appealing as possible. This means they can't just make period dramas for the core audience of period dramas, aka mostly women who are history nerds, so they pander to the modern sensibilities in costuming and not to the people who love to see actual historical costuming. Secondly, I think this might also tie to the broader conservative backlash against loosening of gender roles and broader queer acceptance. Among the core audiences of period dramas there are two distinct groups, queer nerds and conservative women, who don't want politics in their media, which is why they love historical stories because obviously queerness wasn't invented yet and people of colour didn't exist yet (they were and did). (They are ofc not always this extreme, but you get the point.) As men wearing dresses has become a culture war issue, I think the studio executives are afraid that anything not masculine enough in modern standards might alienate the more conservative audiences, and more broadly those who don't want to feel like they are engaging with modern political culture war topics in their escapist media. Even if they knew about the queer nerds, they wouldn't care about them and assume they will go along with it anyway. After all not challenging modern gender roles is not seen as an active choice, it's the default.

This bears repeating: cowards.

As a thank you for reading all the way to the end I will leave you with the image of Tilda Swinton in mid 1600s men's clothing. You are welcome.

Part I: The Bad

[dollypopup]

We need to talk about misogyny in the lukola fandom, and how it originated in the rampant misogyny in the Polin fandom and just continued to grow, because unfortunately, the two deeply intersect, and there's been such a lack of nuance in so many discussions

interestingly enough, this is actually being exhibited in a lot of Luke Newton discourse. Not toward him necessarily, but to the women around him, in comparison to him, for better or worse, including Nicola. There's been a lot of discourse especially around Luke being 'jobless' in contrast to Nicola being 'booked and busy'. and even in rejection of that discussion, the defense becomes that she is an exception, because she is exceptional, and that of course others look less ambitious in comparison. And at first, I'm sure this LOOKS like it's praising a woman for her hard work and dunking on a man for what we imagine isn't.

but has anyone ever asked why Nicola is booked and busy, especially? does she want to be? or does she *have* to be?

I want you to think about just how many women over the age of 40 are getting major roles. How many love scenes you've seen that feature more mature women. How in Queen Charlotte, the focus was on a younger actress, how Violet's and Danbury's and Portia's and QCs actresses don't even have a kiss scripted.

How much of that is by design in the entertainment industry

Nicola, in many ways, is creating a recipe for burn out, but she works alongside wonderful actresses who are incredibly talented- and do not get the opportunities they SHOULD. Roles in the entertainment industry are largely written for young women in their 20s, young, conventional women. And Nicola KNOWS this. She's a businesswoman, and her craft IS her business. The clock is, unfortunately, ticking. This is a very insidious aspect of the misogynistic entertainment machine. Yes, Nicola is booked and busy right now- she's building her brand and trying to break out of the awful cycle of female actors getting a few big roles, and then get relegated to side characters or mum number 3. Should the entertainment industry write more roles for women over 40? YES!!! They should be major roles with poignant narratives!! But it isn't the reality we live in. She is actively fighting against the sexism of the industry she is living in, she cannot take a vacation.

Luke Newton, however, *can*. He has privilege as a man to take his time. Whilst Nicola's career is in danger of a downswing, Luke's is, by most statistics? Just beginning. Men continue to get major roles deep into their 30s, 40s, 50s. In fact, I think MOST male actors only build notoriety as they age. So Luke Newton has the privilege of TIME.

And let me very clear: I'm happy he can. And I wish Nicola could, too. Grinding ourselves to dust in the pursuit of the perfect capitalistic darling is only going to breed misery. The fandom is SO caught up in saying 'oh, look at how great it is that xyz has this role!' and 'booo he's unemployed and jobless etc. etc.' that we don't take the time to ask. . .why is it NECESSARY and in fact praise worthy to lick clean the boot of grind culture? Are we not all tired? Do we not all want downtime? Holiday? Vacation?

Luke Newton is doing what is healthy: he's pushing away from Social Media, didn't spend too much time promoting, disengaged from the fandom in online spaces but is still generous with his time in person, poured himself into his craft, did a hell of a promotion tour, and in the time between fitting and costumes and learning lines for Bridgerton Season 4? He's resting.

As. He. Should.

As *Nicola* should. Because she also pushed to continue engaging with a fanbase who she hopes will act as security for her as she ages out of the roles writers are pushing into the world. Nicola SHOULD BE ALLOWED HER REST!!! She should NOT be booked and busy!! She should NOT be grinding herself to dust for the sake of keeping herself in good light to become one of the few women who continue to be big names beyond her 40s.

She, however, can't. Not because of anything Luke Newton has done, he is not, as many people want to believe, a problem. He benefits from the system ALL his male coworkers do, and does his best to uplift the women around him, likely understanding the struggles of such having been raised surrounded by so many women, but he is not perpetuating the system or creating it. Instead of directing our criticism on Luke Newton, we SHOULD be directing it to the entertainment industry. So Luke Newton is on a break from a serial successful production he has a guaranteed role for: so what? He is afforded that privilege. Having downtime is not the death knell of his career as doomsayers are insisting.

The average age of an Academy Award Winner who is an actor is almost 50. The average age of an Academy Award Winner who is an actress is 37. (source)

Should we be mad? Yes.

Is this something to be mad at Luke Newton for specifically? NO. Many male actors take breaks and time in their career trajectory, because they know they have longevity. The discussion in this fandom is misplaced, and the root of that misplacement is twofold: sexism and capitalist worship. It isn't that Luke Newton lacks ambition and should be working harder- I argue he's doing what is best for him and most people in the long term. This is self care, and it's important.

No, the discussion is that Nicola is forced to work in a pressure pot because of the industry, and the fandom continues to praise her for it, all whilst turning noses up at those who don't or do not have to, and continuing to uphold the narrative that women must be a beacon of exceptionalism in order to curry respect. They continue to uphold her grind as a virtue- look how great it is that she's constantly posting, constantly engaging with the fandom, always auditioning, booked and busy- have you not asked if she would LIKE a vacation? she deserves one, same as Luke Newton.

What you're mad at is NOT Luke himself- but the patriarchy. What you're mad at is that women must be held to standards of near unreachable excellence. But instead of working together as women and having any actual discussion about it that's meaningful, it turns into a crock of shit that then shoves everyone in the backspray, especially other women.

The slutshaming misogyny that has been directed at Luke Newton's girlfriend- *yikes*.

Oh, A is a hanger on. She's 'poptart', she's portrayed with an ant emoji, she's 'toilet twerker', she's 'controlling him' or HE should control HER, she 'should be reigned in', she's jobless, she's an infant who needs her big strong boyfriend to take her social media away, she's not been 'claimed' (like luggage, like a THING), look at him, he doesn't feel ANYTHING toward her- not like Nicola.

Our good, darling Nicola versus that awful whore Antonia/Jade/Any Woman in Luke Newton's Circle.

This sexism is deep and pervasive- being angry he's dating her 'because she's thin'. Insisting she's a villain and everything she does is to 'rile up the fandom' or 'stir up trouble' or that she 'hates Nicola'.

You all do NOT know this woman. And I don't either!!! Maybe she IS a shit stirrer, maybe she is thriving in the drama.

But aren't most of y'all, too?

Polin fandom built so much off of putting down other women to uphold Penelope: Marina is a bitch who was TRICKING Colin and Penelope was just doing what she had to do!!! Of course she kept her secret from him, she was SCARED!!! Eloise is a privileged brat breaking the rules and putting herself in danger but Penelope is a rebel who is building her own success off of taking necessary risks!!!

Our good, Darling Penelope versus that evil whore Marina/Eloise/Cressida/Any Other Woman.

This fandom is predominately female. Most of us identify as women. And a lot of us are *mean* to other women. We uphold sexism in our fandoms, uncontested, as often as we please. But we frame it in criticism of a man and so that's okay- as if that in and of itself is somehow uplifting women, being tied to a feminist cause- but putting down other women in conspiracy theories and bullying them, as occurred to Jade, under the guise of 'oh I'm just criticizing Luke!' is disingenuous. It's an excuse. 'I'm mad at him for-' not being your fantasy.

And Nicola isn't, either.

The truth is, the people in this fandom don't have respect for EITHER of them, just in different ways. A pedestal is a pedestal is a pedestal, and no matter what, any human being will fall from it eventually. And this fandom has proven that when that happens, it will NOT be met with empathy.

Now think about who that will actually hurt in the long term.

A lot of people in this fandom have soul searching to do.

[heavenlymorals]

How a Modern Perspective Skews Historical Characters: A Mini Rant on the Hatred of Female Characters in RDR2

This isn't that organized cuz it's more a rant than a retrospective but fuck it it's my blog, I do what I want-

There are so many people who have actual hatred, not criticisms, for Abigail, Molly, Grimshaw, Mary, and other female characters in the Red Dead universe.

And honestly? I find it very interesting. Sure, men will probably always find a reason to hate a female character, but what I find interesting is how many women also hate these wonderfully crafted characters.

It could be so many reasons as to why this may be the case but honestly? I think it's because people forget that they CANNOT analyze this game authentically through the modern lens of morals and behaviors. This game takes place in 1899 America. Let me say it again. This game takes place in 1899 America.

One more time, just for good measure- this game takes place in FUCKING 1899 America. Women had to be dependent on men because otherwise? They'll either be in poverty, exploited, killed, or all three. There was also the honor system. When had to be the moral high ground for their family so them messing up has consequences on their fathers, mothers, siblings, cousins, and anyone connected to their family name.

Abigail getting pissy at John for getting in trouble all the time? If course it'd feel annoying if you're looking at it through the modern perspective but when you don't, it's a woman telling her man to act like a man and be careful because if he doesn't, she and her son will be destitute and destroyed.

Mary not getting with Arthur but using him? What's the likely hood that the law would bother to help Mary when the two people she needs help with are her father and brother- two grown men who can make their own choices that she literally can do nothing about because as a woman, it wasn't her place to dictate what they do. Arthur was her only option. "Girl, what her family thinks doesn't matter, she still should've gotten with him" girl no, because it's much harder and difficult than that- it's like tearing away an entire identity that you depend on to fucking survive.

"but what about Sadie? She was also living during this time period and she isn't drowned by societal expectations-"

Seriously. Do some research, read a book, expand your knowledge of gender roles and what that entails for people because it explains so many things about these characters in such a human way. They aren't "bitches", they are women of their time and people have to understand that.

No. Sadie isn't a part of this discussion because though she is a fun character and an amazing character, she is a mishmash of historical women who did masculine things to survive at one point but then went back to traditional roles, even if they did occasionally go back to to those old activities for sport sometimes, like Anne Oakley or Calamity Jane. Sadie's entire character is basically "but what if they didn't and committed to the nontraditional lifestyle". There are many inconsistencies that Rockstar did regarding the time period that they established earlier to accommodate Sadie's character better. Sadie is a great character but she doesn't belong in this discussion.

Edit: Ok, since this was a rant, as mentioned previously, I was a bit too rushed with the Sadie aspect of this post and ignored some crucial details. I'm not gonna change the post besides just this though. @hillbillyhipster84 made some great points that Sadie was a reference to Appalachian women and real outlaw women who did run and were accomplices in men's crimes, that I was too ignorant to mention prior beforehand because I didn't do much research. I still don't believe that People should use Sadie to bash the other women though, because those women mentioned above were not the status quo and thus were more trivialized because of it.

So many cultures still operate like this too so if anything, you're just learning something new about another culture.

But I swear, anytime someone talks shit about these characters, y'all got me looking like this-

[nijigasakilove]

Oh yea this could be set up to be one of the goat villainess shows. Another great episode. Loving how intelligent the characters are so far and how strong willed Rishe is.

Rishe trying to secure her days off where she can laze around in advance is so real lol. She not worried about anything else but having a chill and relaxing life. After all the stuff she’s seen in these loops you can’t blame her. I really love how she’s determined to live this life on her own terms.

She may have died in those previous lives, but they weren’t wastes or failures. She learnt so many invaluable skills from them, like being able to craft an antidote for Arnold’s men which ended up saving the day. I appreciate the skepticism from his troops which is pretty realistic considering a simple noblewoman wouldn’t be expected to know how to make an antidote like that.

Got to see Arnold’s compassionate side during this scene too. He knows all his troops by name and backstory. Genuinely cares for his guys and his willing to fight side by side with them. Maybe he’s not as bad as he came off in the last loop.

😂 Rishe willing to take the dilapidated guest villa just so she don’t have to be around people and worry about getting dragged into stuff was hilarious. Cleaning>social interaction. She’s really determined to live a chill life.

Loved the final conversation with she and Arnold on the balcony. His comment about her not needing to know all these skills took her back to her first life where her only value and purpose was marrying into the royal family and having a baby. No more. Now she’s her own person, living for her own interests which she’s discovered after living all these lives. By living 6 already, she’s finally got a chance to live a full one now. On her terms

Love love love a strong capable female MC, my fave genre. She and Arnold are a power couple both fully capable on their own, but even better together.

[acourtofthought]

What would you say are the top 3 (or 5) strongest clues that say Elucien/Gwynriel are gonna happen? The ones that really feel so solid to you.

Ooooh, this is a good question.

For Gwynriel:

That Gwyn is the only character to treat Az's shadows as being separate from himself. It' like a guy who begins dating a girl who has children but he never pays attention to them versus the guy who goes out of his way to get to know the children, proving that he understands the girl and her children are a packaged deal.

That Az is not looking as Gwyn as someone in need of his protection. I'm sure there will be some of that in their book, mates always look out for one another, but there is a big difference between "we can do this together" versus, "I'll do it for you so you don't get hurt".

That Gwyn seems to have a bloodthirsty side to her personality, just as Az does. He can torture in a symphony of pain which means he has chosen to finesse his craft. He's not "let's get this over as quick as possible because I don't like it," it's, "I'm going to draw this out nice and slow and make it hurt in ways you never dreamed." I think he feels guilty about his enjoyment of it afterward because he thinks it makes him a bad person but I think he gets satisfaction from the actual act. Someone like Gwyn who was excited over the thought of the Valkyries cracking skulls and skewering their enemies is well matched for his brutality.

That Gwyn and Az seem to prefer a smaller group of friends over being extremely social, the life of the party. Neither seems to mind their alone time.

For Elucien, there are so many:

That Elain and Lucien share important core values. They are quick to apologize for failing others, they both prefer to avoid violence, they both enjoy being social and engaging with others. There will never be a time where they have to check up on one another, "I'm sorry, is this too overwhelming for you? We can head home if you need".

That Lucien has been loyal to Elain and only Elain ever since he found out who she was to him. No, he did not instantly love her but he chose to respect their bond while he took the time to learn about her whereas he could have easily continued his rakish ways especially after learning she was engaged to someone else. Loyalty to the FMC is sexy.

That Lucien was the one to meet Elain's father and live in the human lands. These are two enormous parts of Elain's past, things that mattered a great deal to her and it will only ever be Lucien who has insider knowledge of who her father was and what being human is about.

That SJM retconned Lucien's father so he'd have the power of the sun in his veins and had Elain constantly by the sunniest windows, as if any bit of darkness was abhorrent, claiming that she needs Sunshine.

That Elain has not yet touched or truly gotten to know Lucien. If the author wanted us to see why they were poorly matched, she would have shown them interacting. She would have shown that despite their best efforts to acknowledge their bond, they were just not fitting. Instead, she has Elain keeping Lucien at a distance book after book and I will never believe the answer to that puzzle is because "she doesn't like him," "she's clearly not interested." An author would more likely prevent two mates from interacting in a major way because she knows there is something there. She knows characters like Elain and Lucien need to remain apart because their chemistry will be obvious the second they start really talking.

Because Elain can hear Lucien's heart and because she is the most beautiful female he'd ever seen. Because he knew she needed fresh air when every single other person in the IC just accepted her being cooped up in her room for weeks. There is a connection between Elucien that is never going away and it would ruin any other romance for either character. No matter what Elain might share with someone else, Lucien is always going to hold a piece of her that the other cannot touch.

[cerastes]

I've seen people before saying that, in terms of presentation, NIKKE delivers it better than Arknights in telling what they want to tell. And I still see this occasionally whenever people start comparing stories in gacha games. Looking at your post, seems like that wasn't a lie at all.

Right, this is an interesting topic for me, so let me give my two cents on this.

I would say that statement is generally true. Nikke's main strengths are its presentation and knowing how to leverage its strengths in general, but let's focus on presentation: It's story is nothing to write home to (note that I am up to Chapter 18), neither are its events (on this regard, take me lightly, I've only read three), but what Nikke wants to say, you will very clearly understand. It's good at telling its story. Sometimes the localization will have Localization Moments (Chatterbox is described as female in the first cutscene he is mentioned, male every time afterwards; there's a lot of clearly literally translated little expressions that make no sense in the flow of the conversations), but overall, even though you're looking at a story that in a lot of ways you've seen a lot of times, its particularities stand out because Nikke tells them properly, concisely, and clearly. Characterization is consistent, and there's a good amount of care clearly put into both consistency and overarching important parts of the narrative; a favorite example of mine is how, in the tutorial, if you pay close attention, you can actually see Marian's eyes glow red during her reload animation, foreshadowing something pretty important that happens with her later.

So even if the story beats are not particularly good or intriguing -- and sometimes, outright terrible, like in Chapter 18 oh god I hate Chapter 18 -- you at least can tell with clarity what's going on and why it's going on.

Arknights has the yang to the yin here, somewhat: The stories on Arknights tend to range from okay to great, and AK events have a habit of going pretty damn hard, either as a whole or at least parts of them. Sometimes, however, they have a weakness, and this weakness is that the actual story telling can be dense. Density is often attributed to good writing, but the truth is, sometimes, the text isn't advanced, it's simply clumsy, and the prose in Arknights is decidedly clumsy. But when you actually untangle the spaghetti of clumsy prose, you find some strong story telling, strong characterization, and topics you don't often find discussed in video games, less so in gacha. You kinda have to work for it, basically.

Something Nikke does good is also that it keeps its relevant cast at any given story beat low, giving it more cohesion, or rather, making it easy to stay cohesive, because Arknights can handle larger casts pretty well sometimes, but I'll be frank, the current main story has so many literal whos to keep track of that I'm supposed to be invested in that I don't really bother. I'm sorry, but I can't really feel a damn thing about Outcast when she showed up for a few scenes and then got nuked off by a contrivance while fighting some faceless nobodies we are told we should fear.

But on the other hand, Nikke narrative, again, despite its strong delivery, is still built on a feeble base for the most part. I only think of a few characters I care about in Nikke, because a lot of the cast is just fluff and Obligatory Archetypes (bunny girls, school girls, maids, etc), whereas in Arknights, I care about a whole damn lot of them, even those without events, because their files and modules paint a very integral and intriguing picture of them. Even smaller scenes in Arknights sometimes can have a big emotional impact, due to its extensive and well crafted worldbuilding and its clever use of its elements in every event, something Nikke cannot claim, because worldbuilding in Nikke is almost non existent.

They both have their strengths, basically, and it's fascinating to me, a writer, to take a deeper look at them.

[akimojo]

So many people hate on ff13 and I'm baffled every time there's mentions of terrible writing and awful characters. I see those complaints parroted very often, yet I genuinely cannot comprehend what goes behind those opinions. It's so frustrating. I mean, everyone says the same thing; I can't help but think that maybe I'm the one that's missing something, that maybe the writing is indeed not good or that the characters aren't great either. I genuinely find the story really well crafted, especially when taking into account the depth that the datalogs hold, and the character arcs and relationships that are devoloped throughout the game are personally some of the best I've seen in gaming. I don't mind if ff13 isn't most people's cup of tea, that's fine. I just wish I could find someone that at the very least could explain their point of view in a respectful way instead of just calling the game trash.

I know right 😭 it's one thing if someone were to dislike the characters/story for how they're actually written, but the vast majority of people who I've seen complain are so insanely off the mark that it makes me wonder if they're deliberately missing the point just to have something to bitch about

Like it genuinely irks me just how much ff13 is shat on TO THIS DAY when so many of the complaints are just plain wrong to anyone who actually payed attention to the game!!! Again, personal opinion is fine and all, but the fact that the western ff fanbase has all but ruined 13's reputation over nothing is beyond frustrating to me

The only explanation I have for it is that the people who whine about 13 to that extent either didn't finish the game or didn't bother to pay attention to how the story developed, but even then I'm lost because why wouldn't they give 13 the same chance as any other ff game? Did they not expect much because of its reputation? Was the linearity really that blasphemous to them? Is it because of how differently it handles female characters compared to earlier games? Is it because the game doesn't spoonfeed information to the player outside of the datalogs? Would be great if someone could actually explain it properly for once lol

[too-antigonish]

The Great S7 Rewrite: 14 July 2024 Update

So here's a brief summary of where we're at so far plus new ideas:

Bone of Contention #1: Opera Rules

So far: 

Keep and maybe even go a little crazy with Opera Rules 

Possibly feature more of the opera written for S7

Possibly include opera theme towpath murders 

NEW:

@oeuvrinarydurian

Throwing this out here because so many of these options are potentially hysterical. https://tropedia.fandom.com/wiki/Opera

I will also suggest looking at TV Tropes Opera page. I’d also recommend checking out the various tvtropes pages for individual operas by title.

Bone of Contention #2: Ludo and Violetta?

So far:

Give them an evil plan that actually makes logical sense

And also make them people that Morse would actually want to be friends/lovers with

Consider extent to which Violetta is “Unattainable Fantasy Woman” 

Make Ludo a music journalist, etc.

NEW:

Keeping Ludo and Violetta

@oeuvrinarydurian

Violetta works better as a character if we turn her more aggressively into a black widow, who is fully on board with whatever overall plan the two of them have

Could work fine in Operaville if the various lures Ludo throws out include Violetta and her magical vajayjay.

Part of the fun and engagement is finding a way to make them work. I think it is cheating if we get rid of everything we hate.

I’m leaning towards making them much more loathsome and true operatic villains.

@fanficrocks

Agrees we should keep Ludo and Violetta but ramp up their villainy… not necessarily in an overt way

Making them on the surface believable as friend and paramour respectively for Morse; but beneath, they are fully invested in their villainy

@astridcontramundum

Agrees that they could both be villains. 

That’s what she did with them in her “After-comers” AU. 

Violetta was actually more of the mastermind in that story, because Ludo tended to give the game away with his theatrics 😂

Specific Ideas for Ludo and Violetta

Fanfic

Loves Ludo as music columnist covering the premiere of a new opera in Venice for the first meeting/supposedly short affair between Violetta and Morse.

Maybe Ludo attends pretending to be a single man because that is the only way he stands a chance at a real coup - an interview with the prima Donna starring as the female lead in the opera (she is well known for brushing off all other women, esp younger & prettier)

Astrid

Likes the ideas we have for how Ludo, Violetta and Morse meet! (I do think we need to keep them—we need a damsel and a villain.

The trouble for me in S7 was that Violetta’s storyline made no sense. If she was really afraid, it seemed she had ample time alone in which she could tell Morse the truth. 

And I didn’t mind Ludo as a villain—I had too much fun having Ludo and Bixby go head-to-head in my AU, I think. 😂)

Ludo’s Outfits

Astrid

…Ludo tended to give the game away with his theatrics 😂

Durian

…not to mention his outfits.

mystifying sweater vest and patterned shirt combination that’s burnt into my brain that I find incredibly upsetting. It’s so horrible, even by 70s standards, and I can’t quite figure out what the point of it is thematically . Do you know the one I mean? It’s godawful.  I think it’s what he’s wearing when Morse goes over for “dinner“ and Violetta is there. I think M’s wearing his Emo Black Turtle.

Ludo’s outfits, one after the other, just get worse and worse and worse. We have to put together an outfit  montage of stills for our storyboard as we craft our villain s/l. Perhaps we can all drop some LSD. Whoever was dressing him clearly was taking psychedelic drugs.

Antigonish

We *must* now include Ludo and Violetta's increasingly obnoxious  outfits as a sign of their escalating villainy. Emo black turtleneck Morse should be oblivious and baffled by their fashion choices.

Durian

Elton John's fashion evolution

Bone of Contention #3: Towpath Storyline

So far:

Streamline very cluttered storyline

Focus mostly on is the murderer Carl or is it not Carl

Possibly make them opera related so it is universe within universe for towpath killings.  Deranged fan? Thwarted performer? Gives more scope for Thursday/Morse conflict.

Make conflict between Morse and Thursday believable by providing adequate motivation—possibly Morse’s increasingly reckless behavior and lack of care for his safety

While there was a reconciliation at the end of S6, Morse would have still been carrying resentment about having been pushed aside

NEW:

Morse/Thursday Conflict

Astrid

And as for the Morse/Thursday conflict—since Morse is having this affair, and since the case is veering towards the operatic, perhaps Morse gets reckless, putting himself inti danger?

Thursday might think of how he had just gone off to Wicklesham Quarry alone and feel angry that Morse has learned nothing from S6.

Fanfic

Likes the idea of Morse rushing into danger in a parallel with the S6 finale. It is sort of what he did at the very end of Zenana, but if it happens earlier like the middle of Oracle, it would give us a very solid reason for their increasingly acrimonious relationship

Bone of Contention #4: The Episodic Storylines

Raga: 

Fanfic

Simplify to story of intra-family tension resulting in the killing of an employee who is also a friend and thus has opinions on the matter. 

Move the actual killing to a street corner or alleyway so that the political backdrop (hate-fueled campaign, race-based attack on the Asian teenager) works as an effective red herring

Then leaves the gay wrestlers story to be woven in - potentially as a second red herring overlapping with the first one of race hate (as several of the wrestlers in the group were persons of color). 

Loves Thursday’s disparaging parallel between wrestling and opera, and can see how that will really rile Morse

Astrid

Glad you like the wrestlers! I was thinking maybe their falling out could be over who was getting the starring role? Over who would get to play the lead “face?” 

Between the wrestlers, and the family drama (love you all’s ideas for them!) and the Ludo/Morse/Violetta storyline, we could have a theme of jealousy and thwarted love and temptation running throughout all of the layers, linking them all together. And tying in to the opera, too, framing it all into one?

Antigonish

If we make the family Bengali, they would work with the idea of incorporating the political tensions in the lead-up to Bangladesh's independence in '71.

Durian

I love what everybody’s throwing out as far as Raga. 

I think we could get rid of the poker and debt storylines as well and completely concentrate on some iteration of  intra-family political divisions . 

If we’ve got to have a murder about money, we can come up with a better reason… Maybe funding some kind of Pro-Bangladeshi political or social cause? 

Zenana:

Fanfic

The only bit in the entire episode that has anything at all to do with the title is the Lady Matilda’s college theme… limiting it to women only, and the women looking after their own (so to speak) when they trap, or more accurately try to inflict vigilante justice on, the copycat towpath killer

Durian

I am fully on board with jettisoning the Lady Matilda‘s storyline. It’s awkward.  

Overall S7 Themes

Astrid

That quote from Ludo* would be great to use too! I had forgotten he said that...that also brings all of the cast of characters together.

*Ludo sums it up—while also perhaps referring to his crimes—by saying to Morse, “Life, death, rich, poor. It's all a roll of the dice, Morse. There's no reason to any of it. You're not responsible. Some people are just unlucky.”

Between the wrestlers, and the family drama (love you all’s ideas for them!) and the Ludo/Morse/Violetta storyline, we could have a theme of jealousy and thwarted love and temptation running throughout all of the layers, linking them all together. And tying in to the opera, too, framing it all into one?

OK. Next up: a strategy for actually getting this done.

[astrojulia]

PAC - Messages to improve your Summer/Winter Season

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DISCLAIMER. These general free readings are made in good faith for entertainment purpose. This reading was done in mind with Summer for people in the Northern Hemisphere and Winter for the Southern Hemisphere.

How to pick a pile

When you have different cards to choose from in pile 1,2,3… look at each of those cards. Wait until someone reminds you of a memory. Perhaps a character’s outfit resembles one of your own. It is this pile that has its message. What if they all remind me of something? Go for the one with the strongest memory, one might look like her earring but another might be the favorite candy you got from your grandma when you vacationed at her house. But what if none reminds me of something? Take a deep breath and wait a little longer, without charging yourself or creating worries. Relax, some will awaken some memory in you, I promise! ..

Pile 1 - Kuromi

(Eight of Coins - Ships - 10 of Wands - Moon - The Moon - Lillies - Nightingale)

What you've been working on since the beginning of the year has been your work and your career, and that's why you've already made great progress in this regard. You've completed many plans and projects because I see here a person who engages in independent and primarily artistic work (if this doesn't apply to you, skip this part). You've already made significant changes to the way you approach your projects, perfecting them and improving their efficiency in terms of time and cost.

Your strength today lies primarily with women and the female audience. It seems that you make their work much easier by delivering practically everything ready. So far, this description has been quite general, but let me delve deeper. You have the ability to take sketches and text that people create and turn them into highly detailed images. You can deliver exactly what they want, even when they don't fully understand their own desires.

In the remainder of the year, you need to focus on enhancing your creativity, intuition, and subconscious. It appears that you have concentrated on improving the theoretical and logical aspects of your art, such as techniques. However, now it's time to reestablish your focus on the practical and emotional dimensions of your craft. Understand the messages behind your work without needing explanations or logical reasoning, as there are certain aspects that are purely emotional and not rational.

Pile 2 -My Melody

(The Fool - Mices - Two of Cups - Tree - The Hierophant - Whip - Turkey)

What you've been working on since the beginning of the year is exploring the possibilities at your disposal. You haven't limited yourself to a single plan or envisioned a fixed future; instead, you've been experimenting and getting to know a little bit of everything. You have conducted extensive research, seeking out both the purest and darkest aspects of each subject. During this period, you haven't settled for anything less—you have immersed yourself in the topic and then moved on. This research and exploration are closely connected to the magical, religious, and alchemical aspects of things.

Your strength lies in your ability to transform situations like turning water into wine. You have a knack for converting adversity into productivity and fruitful outcomes. For you, there is no such thing as a bad time. This ability is particularly evident when it comes to your parents and ancestors—you have a way of making their influence more adaptable.

In the remaining part of the year, it is important to focus and commit to a specific area. Although you have conducted extensive research, it's time to concentrate on a particular subject to delve deeper and produce something that can benefit you in the long-term future. You need to create a ritual, something you can talk about and engage with every day, starting from the moment you wake up in the morning.

Pile 3 - Hello Kitty

(Ace of Pentacles - Child - The Chariot - Bear - Four of Pentacles - Dog - Skunk)

You have been focusing on personal growth and the experiences that money can afford you. You have been meeting your child's wants and basic needs to a certain extent. For instance, if you can buy a snack, you go ahead and purchase it without holding back. However, you have imposed significant restrictions on yourself, and now you are starting to loosen up a bit. Additionally, you have been rediscovering and utilizing skills from your childhood that were once set aside due to financial constraints, but now you have the means to pursue them.

Your greatest strength today lies in your audacity and courage. Nothing and no one can stand in your way. You are also deeply connected to spirituality, particularly embracing a feminine and motherly energy. Your inner light and unwavering faith that everything will eventually fall into place are your sources of strength.

As you move forward in the remaining part of the year, it is important to focus on your economy and practice saving. Cultivate a greater appreciation and care for the possessions you already have. Lately, you have been driven by instinct, and it would be beneficial to incorporate a bit more rationality into your decision-making for the remainder of the year.

(CC) AstroJulia Some Rights Reserved

[gabriel-xander]

Don't Forget

[Sans x Female!Reader]

21: Aren't You Sweet?

A/N: Just realized that 70% of this fan-fiction is going to be/has to be me finding new ways to make MC and Sans yapp to each other about stupid shit and/or serious shit because Undertale is all about exhausting the dialogue. Will I run out of things to make these characters talk about? Let’s go gambling find out!

♪────✿⁠(⁠✧◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕✧⁠)✿⁠────♪

Finding the little shop takes as long as Sans said it would. You didn’t mind it at all, you two managed to talk about useless things for that walk so it wasn’t boring. Sans tells you about the neighboring monsters, how they are, and the ones he’s most friendly with. And by that, he refers to the monsters who know his name and won’t tell him to fuck off politely.

“Really? But it seemed like those people at Grillby’s really liked you.” You furrow your brows.

He shrugs his shoulders, “eh, i’m a real hit or miss when it comes to makin’ friends. you wouldn’t believe how many of these guys hate puns.”

“Whaaat? But they’re always a rib-tickler!”

“right? they’re so humerus, too. i’m just an unappreciated master at my craft.”

“Dang, just like that one bitch who cut off his ear.”

“…who?”

“Vincent van Gogh. He was the guy of all time.”

“did you know him personally, or what?”

You sigh wistfully, “Man, I wish. I could’ve fixed him.”

“…” Sans’ smile strains, “i don’t think there’s much fixing a guy who willingly cut off his ear.”

“That’s what you think,” You smile, pointing at the building not too far ahead. “Hey, is that the shop?”

“yeah, yeah. that’s the one. huh, looks more rundown than i remembered.”

“Crap. You know, I’d totally step up as a hero to help reconstruct this place, and I meant to learn about it, but I just forgot to.”

“learn about what?”

“Carpeting.

“ah.” Sans nods, “there are monsters whose jobs are to do that stuff, anyway. besides, a human with a heart of gold-”

HOW DOES HE KNOW?!

“-and a pure soul? how original.”

Oh, wait. He was just teasing you with a prevalent phrase.

“Ah-ha ha, yeah… Uh, well you know, shouldn’t those kinds of stereotypes be welcomed? Or would you rather I have been a dick-ass human?”

“no, no. by all means, be that fairy-tale human we all know you can be. actually, if you can be like that one princess with glowing hair so we can have an artificial sun, that would be so great.”

You roll your eyes as you two stop in front of the store, “You see, I totally would, but I’m more interested in checking this place out.”

“great transition, bud,” Sans snorts a short laugh, opening the door first, “lady’s first.”

You give your thanks as you stroll in, taking in the sights of the small, cozy shop. It’s really familiar, probably because it looks like that bunny’s shop in the main area of Snowdin but just a little bit bigger. The lights are dimmer, but you appreciate it since it’s easier on the eyes. There aren’t any customers in here, however, there’s a monster man behind the register who catches your eye.

He’s pitch black everywhere, and small wisps of black smoke rise from his hair, reminding you of Grillby. Strangely, his facial features gave off a white outline that allowed you to see his expression very clearly. His shirt is green and unbuttoned, letting you see the white shirt underneath. He’s resting his cheek against his hand, reading a book on the counter without giving you two the time of day. His ears are interesting, vertical, and thick in a way you’ve never seen before. He looks tall, but then again monsters are proving to be larger than expected because of their inhumanity.

Hmm…

Inch resting.

This doesn’t look like the old lady Red Bird was talking about… This might just be another employee then. Sans gestures for you to go talk to the shadow monster, leaning against the door to wait for you. You nod at him and walk to the counter with a polite smile.

You put your hands on the counter and clear your throat, “Hello, there!”

The guy looks up and does a double take, widening his eyes at you. You think it’s supposed to be some kind of blush, but white, diagonal lines appear on his cheeks. Bro is so anime, you’re sure Alphys would love this guy.

“Uh, yes-Er-uh–” The monster clears his throat very violently, leaning back on his hand at an awkward angle. “-Yeah, whatever. Hi.”

…Okay… That happened.

“So, uh,” Oh, he’s still talking. “you’re not from Snowdin, right? Where uh, where you from?”

…Is… huh? Is what you think is happening happening right now?

You’re not sure how you feel about this if you’re completely honest. You see Sans from the corner of your eye, his smile is straining, and he looks just as confused as you do.

“Ah, I’m uh, I’m from uptown Snowdin? But I thought I should get out of my comfort zone when looking for a job.” You tell him.

“Oh, so you’re here to… apply…?”

You nod, “Yeah, speaking of which, I thought an older lady ran this place?”

The shadow monster nods in turn, “Yeah, yeah. My granny. She’s not here today, but I usually take care of the place even when she is here.”

“Oh, cool! So, I mean, how about it? Are you looking for some extra hands on Mondays and Tuesdays?”

The man pouts, “Just Mondays and Tuesdays…?”

You scrunch up your nose, “Is that a big problem-”

“-NO NO! Not at all! I-I mean, it’s slow here anyway, so you’d just be bored here if you stayed too long.” He widens his eyes, his strange blush deepening, “I-I forgot to introduce myself, sorry. I’m uh, I’m Pollux.”

Oh nice, like the star! You probably shouldn’t say anything though because this Pollux guy seems like he’ll latch onto any nice words you’ll say to him. He seems nice, but you don’t have the energy to entertain someone like that.

“It’s nice to meet you, Pollux. You can call me [Y/n].” You drum your fingers on the counter, “So… Uhm, would now be a good time for an interview, or do I need to fill out an application first, or-”

“Right, let me–I’ll be right back!”

Pollux closes his book (rip, he didn’t put in his bookmark first) and goes through the back door behind the counter in a hurry, accidentally slamming the door behind himself. You look back at Sans, that fucker hand his hand over his grin, shoulders shaking in an attempt to quiet his laughter.

How dare he laugh at your misery? It’s not your fault you can draw in bitches left and right, if anything he should feel sorry for you! Oh, to be cursed with Main Character energy.

“wow, that was pretty impressive,” Sans whispers loud enough for you to hear, “you really do attract all kinds of attention, huh?”

You groan in embarrassment, “You be quiet with that! Can’t you be sympathetic about this? Ugh, I wish Elliot was here, he could fix this.”

“who’s that? friend of yours?”

“Yeah, my best friend. We looked like a gay couple when we stood next to each other so we just scared away the hoes.” You sigh at his memory, “But alas, you don’t make us look like a gay couple. We look too hetero together.”

“…i thought we silently agreed to not bring those types of conversations outside the house.” Sans then realizes something, “wait, what do you mean gay couple?”

You can’t respond since Pollux comes back out at that moment. He’s holding a few papers and sets them down on the counter in front of you with an awkward smile. Glancing over it lets you know it’s pretty standard, but some of the things you might need help with from Sans since “Monster Family Type” is not something you know how to answer.

“We have another person working here Mondays through Thursdays so you’ll be seeing her, too. She’s uh… not very reliable.” Pollux’s expression twists into something unpleasant, “I hope you can get along with her. Hell knows that I can’t.”

You can’t help but grin, “Finally dropped that nonchalant act, huh? That’s good, I’d rather be friends with someone who’s true to themselves.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Pollux blushes tenfold as he hides his face behind his hands. The strange smoke that rose from his hair intensified to his emotions. You almost want to sigh and scold yourself, but you’re not given a chance to do anything.

“Oh, o-okay! I–Uh! Yeah, no I-I was just uh, I was testing you! For-For your judge of character, yeah!” He lowers his hands and runs them through his hair, looking away from you with a bashful look, “You uhm, tha-that application can be done whenever. If… If you bring it by next Monday, you can probably start the same day, too.”

You nod along to his words, listening to him yapp while thinking about Grillby because the motherfucker is so fine.

The place here is so dead, but you’re not going to complain about having an easy job especially since Pollux is going to be easygoing enough to just hire you like that. He asks you a few more questions before you can tell he’s just trying to keep you around for a casual conversation. You feel so bad but you’re not really interested and you’ll have a chance to talk to him anyway another day.

“Well, I better get going,” You interrupt Pollux with a smile, “I have a few more errands to run and I kind of want to spend today at home after, so…”

His smile drops slightly but tries to cover it up just as fast, “Oh, yeah. Sor-Uh, I sho-I gotta do inventory anyway, so yeahhh. I’m pretty busy.”

“Cool! Don’t wanna get in your way then,” You nod, already beginning to walk back toward Sans, “Have a good day, Pollux. See you on Monday!”

He reaches his hand out to you before lowering it, “Yeah, I–Yeah, see ya…!”

“Let’s get going, Sans.”

“uh-huh.”

The skeleton, watching the whole time and thus understanding your desire to escape, already had the door open for you. You thank him as you walk out of the shop, sighing in relief when you hear the door close behind him.

“wow. that was… a show.” Sans snickers, “you sure about this place, [y/n]?”

“It should be fine, I think,” You shake your head, “Let’s get going. I meant it when I said I just wanna relax now.”

Well, he won’t argue with that. Dang, who knew you had that much game? You literally just walked in there and that guy was whipped! Sans recognizes that monster, too. Pollux is what the world categorizes as a “hidden boss” but he’s not actually a boss monster. As far as he’s aware, Toriel and Agore still stand as the only Boss Monsters in the underground. Anyway, he always knew Pollux was that type of person, but it’s still funny to witness every time. You should be safe working there, he knows Pollux isn’t the type to do anything since he’s all bite.

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask,” You start suddenly, “the first day I moved in with you guys, you and Papyrus mentioned someone named Undyne? You said she was an authoritative figure, too. Mind telling me about her?”

Ooh, it’d be good to actually tell you, so Sans does.

“he’s the head of the royal guard, paps trains with her pretty regularly. hm, what can i really say about her? she’s rough around the edges when you first meet her, but reliable to everyone around her. heh, you’d probably get along with her…”

You purposely fall for his words trailing off. Yes, you know this already but you need Sans to tell you first. “But…?”

“...but she’s probably the biggest hater towards humans like you. oh, ‘specially ‘cause you’re an adult? she’d take your soul in a heart-beat.” That pun was weak, but Sans didn’t like how bleak he sounded, “she doesn’t come around here often, but… you know.”

“Yeah… I do…”

Sans furrows his bonebrows, “hey, don’t sweat it, [y/n]. i promised toriel that i’d take care of you, and well… we’re friends now too, so i wanna make sure you’re okay too anyway. i’m sure my bro feels the same way.”

“That’s good. I-I hate being restricted, but I know that it means I really shouldn’t go places without you or Papyrus. Undyne seems pretty dangerous.”

“like i said, she doesn’t come here all that often. she mainly just stays in the waterfalls, which is just down the road from our place. so you can still go where you want on your own if you really want, just probably not that way.”

You smile weakly, “Ah, you know, if I’m being completely honest here… I’m not really in a hurry to leave Snowdin. I don’t want to die, Sans. Is… Is it bad that I don’t want my soul to be taken? Even though I know that my soul could be the key to help free you all. Is it bad that I don’t want to do it?”

Sans huffs a small laugh, his smile softening without him realizing. Damn, you know what? He doesn’t want you to get your soul taken, either. 

“No,” Sans says softly, “it’s not bad at all.”

Maybe that’s all you two need for now to come to a small understanding.

A/N: I'm scared that if I draw that npc monster that there's gonna be at least one person who's gonna say "i wont him in my mouth" and that's cool and all, but sans is already fighting for his spot in this fic against GRILLBY on Wattpad, Quotev, AND Ao3 and he's barely in this damn fic 😭

Taglist:

@lemonboy011

@adriixboo

@fluffyart5000

[corvid-gae]

I believe i can make a better Minecraft movie than the garbage that is being produced rn. This isn't even "oh i'm totally a better writer than these professionals" this is because they seem to be ignoring the 'themes' of Minecraft in favor of corporate sanitation, and I can do better than a corporation.

So where to start? Well, by analyzing the 'themes' of Minecraft I mentioned. And what are those? Well, 3 major things imo.

Number 1; Creativity; Minecraft itself is a sandbox game, naturally one of the major themes it carries is creativity. You can create anything you want, the worlds your oyster in Minecraft.

Number 2; Community; While Minecraft can be a single-player game, the whole of the game has become about a community of people. SMPs, Minigame servers, even outside the game Minecraft is about community. As much as people may not like the mob vote, we come together as a community to decide things that we want to come to the game!

Number 3; Love; Now you might look at me weird for this one, but Minecraft is full of love. Love by Minecraft content creators who LOVE the game for all its worth, mod makers who love to create new content for the game, even the Minecraft End Poem. "And the universe said I love you, because you are love-" the game is full of love.

Now are these things the end all be all of 'themes' in Minecraft? No, of course not. It's a sandbox game which means themes can be all over the place, but these are the themes I personally would use in a Minecraft movie since without these themes a movie would fall flat. And if we're all honest with ourselves, just from that newest trailer the Minecraft Movie has NONE of these.

There's no creativity (just another jumanji isekai ripoff) no community (aka no one in the community seems to be liking it) and no love (it's a corporate cash-grab through and through)

But how would i fix that? Well, I have a few ideas.

First and foremost; who are the protagonists and antagonists? Well OBVIOUSLY Steve and Alex are our protagonists. Steve has lost his memories and must find out what happened to them, and Alex? Well she is related to his missing memories (also NO, no romance between them. No "oh she's a STRONG FEMALE CHARACTER" in the Hollywood way) And the antagonists? Well, one would first assume Herobrine- but i think that's too easy. What about the Piglins like the actual live action? Also no. So who the hell is the antagonist? Well that depends, an antagonist would be in opposition to all of the themes that I listed- Creativity, Community, and Love. What in Minecraft fits this? A destructive force that acts alone and out of hate (or at least some kind of hate.)

The Wither.

But hasn't Minecraft Story Mode used the Wither for its story? Yes, yes they did. But why fix whats not broken? The Wither is a GREAT antagonist if the themes of Minecraft are as I listed above. Not to mention you can do a LOT with the Wither. It doesn't just have to be a large monster, it can be many things. For this movie the Wither is akin to a blight spreading across the land, killing anything in its path, reducing it to a greyed out violent form of its past self.

Next; What would the general plot be? Well, the general idea is that Steve wakes up without his memories. All he has is a journal with his name on it and a few entries (how to craft, certain creatures and what they drop, etc. The basics of Minecraft) but there's also a map that leads him to a village, which is when the plot truly kicks off when he defends the villagers from some Pillagers (Villagers who have been affected by the Wither blight.) The story follows Steve as he finds Alex (who is related to his unknown history. She admits she also has very little memory. All she knows is that she knows HIM and they need to stick together) and then they travel to find what caused the Wither blight; what happened to their memories; and how the hell are they going to stop the blight/get their memories back. The climatic point of the story reveals that THEY are the reason the Wither blight is spreading, both had accidentally unleashed it while exploring a Stronghold that held the Wither, which also explains their lost memories (somehow, i don't have the specifics its OKAY- this is a concept for a reason)

At the climax itself Steve is dying. There's a reference to the End Poem, he comes back to life (because obviously it's Minecraft. You revive) and him & Alex manage to stop the Wither blight as well as reverse it, obviously saving the day.

Now there's a lot of holes in the idea, but as I said it's a CONCEPT i'm toying around with because I do believe this basic structure would provide a much more fulfilling movie than game isekai with popular actors #12. I'd love to see people add on to this since as I said, COMMUNITY is one of the largest parts of Minecraft, and personally i love building on others ideas.

[tethysresort]

TRSB master post! I am going to put a cut below so that it isn't ridiculously long...

This is all of the TRSB fanfics and fanart I have done! Please enjoy and read the tags before proceeding! (I am leaving it marked "for everyone" but the ratings vary!) I will also update this post in future years.

2020 Kraken Art by AnnEllspethRaven Rating: G, 5k words Characters: Osse and Kraken (otherwise known as the Reformed Watcher in the Water) Summary: Protecting the ocean is a big job that requires strength, intelligence, supreme judgement and foresight. But somebody has to do it.

Fire Art by Lferion Rating: T, 8.5k words Characters: Nerdanel/Feanor, Arafinwe, Nolofinwe Summary: Nerdanel, Feanor and the choices that were made.

2021 Now Free Art by maglor_still_lives Characters: Original Elf and Orc characters, and a very cute warg puppy Rating M, for violence, 15k words Summary: When do you decide you are free? A long walk across Beleriand.

Walls of Stone Art by ThatFeanorian Characters: Finrod, a lot of original characters including Nargothrond itself Rating G, 6.5k words Summary: Nulukkizdîn, Nargothrond… The cave has had many names through time, and yet remains both the same and profoundly changed.

2022 Star-fire A gift for art by ArlenianChronicles Rating T, 1.4k words Characters: Maglor and Elros, Maglor and Elros and Elrond Summary: One last goodbye.

Scent of cedar on the wind Art by just_one_iota Rating M, for violence and PTSD, 19.5k words Characters: Celebrian/Elrond, Erestor/Glorfindel, Elrond and Erestor and Glorfindel, Elrond and Elros, Elrond and Gil-galad, Elrond and Lindir Summary: Imladris, TA 2. Elrond comes home. Memories of the Last Alliance trail along behind.

Wayfinding A gift for art #36, 2022! Bonus art made by Galenfea! Rating G, 2 k words Characters: The Fellowship Summary: The beginning of the trip, and some minor navigation problems.

Dill A gift for art by PointlessVenture (slide #85, 2022) Rating G, 1.7 k words Characters: OC, Fili and Kili Summary: Fili and Kili had trouble finding Bilbo's tea party.

Treasure Chest of Memories Art by eris_of_imladris Rating T, 8k words Characters: Nerdanel and her parents, OCs Summary: Nerdanel searches for her craft and place in life, and hears stories of Middle Earth and the Great Journey.

2023 A boat, my boat, out upon the River Art by Ach_Sss_No Rating G, 5 k words Characters: Smeagol and Deagol, OC’s of their family Summary: How many tries does it take Sméagol to build a boat?

lines of descent Gift for art #66, 2023 by ElanM. Rating T, 3.7 k words Characters: Lothiriel, Lothiriel’s family, Mithrellas, Gilmith Summary: Lothíriel choses how she will grow up.

Steadfast Art by I_did_not_mean_to: Rating E, explicit sex, 12.5k words (please click responsibly), Art rating G Characters: Boromir/female OC, Boromir and Faramir Summary: The love story of Boromir and Elameril.

2024 Reading Under the Flowers (art) With the story “Temporary” by Sullen_in_Love Art rating G, Story rating T Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor

Methodology Art “Oh Brother” by fishing4stars Story rating E, Art rating E (there is a LOT of explicit sex, please click responsibly) Characters: Feanaro/Nerdanel, Anarie/Nolofinwe, Anarie and Nerdanel, Feanaro and Nolofinwe Summary: The Year Turning Art Exhibition is THE premier art exhibition of Valinor. When Nerdanel told Fëanáro that she needed help with a project, Nerdanel hadn’t expected him to be quite this cooperative. When Fëanáro told Ñolofinwë that he would come at the exhibition, Ñolofinwë hadn’t quite expected it would be this way. At least it proved that there is at least one thing in which Fëanáro isn’t “the best”.

Swallows at Dusk and Dawn Art by StaYin Story rating T, Art rating G Characters: Haleth and Caranthir and Caranthir’s Wife Summary: It is winter at the castle by the lake. The survivors of the siege of the stockade recover, Haleth makes friends, and Caranthir begins courting a certain elvish trader. As winter deepens, Haleth makes choices and the People of Haleth arise.