#from is capitalized in the post to make it clear it’s the title. since it’s the worst name ever and doesn’t look like a title

[jettreno]

this season of FROM really has been SO fucking good…the first two seasons are great too of course, I LOVED them and I wouldn’t be watching the show if they weren’t good, but season three is knocking it out of the damn park. every episode has been amazing. I’m glad the show is finally getting more recognition, it deserves it

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Studious IV (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

You continue reading Aemond's diary. As his true feelings for you become ever more clear, can you decipher your own feelings for him?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: Aemond in his smut writer era (semi-public sex, p in v sex, tiddy suckin', riding, fingering, oral sex f receiving, bad sex)

Author's Note: So sorry for the delay! But this baby is 11K words, so hopefully that makes up for it! Also, I tried for a long time to format this like the others, but tumblr wouldn't let me post it if I did, so the formatting is a little different here.

Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here - Read Part III Here

My Masterlist

Taglist will be done via reblogs (there are simply too many of you to fit here)

Studious IV

You were never setting foot in the library again.

Not after what you just read. Not when you were sure that the mere memory of it would have you bursting into flames the moment you crossed the threshold.

Good gods, only a few entries ago, Aemond could hardly bring himself to write the word ‘cunt,’ and now this? What in the Seven Hells were his advisors – Grand Maester Orwyle, Lord Jasper Wylde, and Prince Aegon – teaching him?

You weren’t sure whether the odd feeling in your stomach was due to how much you ate – an entire meat pie and five tea cakes, all washed down with a pot and a half of raspberry tea – or what you had just read.

Either way, it was not enough to stop you from glancing about your bedchamber to ensure no one was watching you and then rereading the entry from the beginning.

The 16th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I have just returned from the library. Grand Maester Orwyle suggested that I consult a book on anatomy. Since there was no business of court I was required to attend today, I asked one of the librarians to help me retrieve the title after I finished my training.

I also found a few books Aegon recommended, only after I dismissed the librarian – I did not want him to know that I took those. Or that I even knew what they were. Gossip abounds in the capital, and I do not wish to be the subject of more than I already am.

By the titles alone, I am surprised Mother allows them to remain in the Keep. I likely will not read most of them. Aegon has already traumatised me quite thoroughly. I see no reason to allow him to ruin reading for me, as well. Although one title, ‘A Caution for Young Girls,’ seems innocent enough.

But the books are not why I am writing now, when my usual routine is to write immediately before I retire to bed. I just… I need to commit this to paper before it leaves me entirely.

On my way out of the library, I saw her. My wife – if I die tomorrow or in a hundred years, I shall never tire of calling her that.

She has quickly found the more private areas of the library, it seems. I would never have seen her if I had not been considering going there to read myself.

It must mean something that she did not choose just any of the countless hidden places within the maze of the library, but my favourite – a secluded alcove along the western wall. An indicator of our compatibility, perhaps. Or even a sign from the gods?

Had the books I’d been carrying not been so… unsuitable, I would have asked to join her.

No, I wouldn’t have. That would require far more courage than I can summon when I see her.

I just stared at her, watching her face as she read. From where I stood, I could not see what she was reading. But I could see her, and that was enough.

She is so expressive! I saw her both smile and frown in quick succession, and once, her entire face scrunched in displeasure as if she had just taken a bite of lemon! Gods, how can even such an unpleasant expression be so beautiful?

Perhaps I should not have watched her at all, for the longer I stood there, the further my mind drifted. And then, I heard Aegon’s voice, as clearly as if he were standing beside me.

‘Don’t limit yourself to the bedchamber brother, or even the bed! A wall or a table serves just as well. And there is a certain thrill to knowing you could be discovered…’

Damn him. Why did I ever ask for his assistance? I would have been better off enlisting the help of an actual whore! At least then, the vulgarity would not come from the future King. Damn him to the deepest of the Seven Hells.

But that stupid advice echoed in my mind over and over. And against my will and better judgement, an image began to form. A dream – a waking dream.

Though my feet remained planted on the floor, I imagined setting aside my books and joining her in that alcove. She would look up and smile upon hearing my approach, perhaps even giggle at my attempt at stealth.

I would sit beside her and ask what she was reading. I might even ask her to read to me. But I would not let her read for long.

I would kiss her while she read. Not on her lips but all over her perfect face. Her cheeks, her forehead, on the tip of her nose. All just to distract her, to make her laugh. Only when she made so much noise that I feared discovery would I kiss her lips to quiet her and finally claim my prize.

The kiss would not be like in the Sept, or in her chambers that night. Instead, she would kiss me back and open herself to me. I would kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her. Until we were both out of breath but still wanting more.

Seeing her like that, with her lips swollen and cheeks flushed… I would not be able to wait until we returned to our chambers. I would lift her onto that very table, books be damned.

Like our wedding night, we would not undress. We would be in too much of a hurry.

But even hurried, I would be gentle. I would take the time to prepare her, as Lord Wylde said I must do every time. Doing so makes the experience more pleasurable for the woman, he says. And Orwyle added that her enjoyment makes it more likely that the coupling will be fruitful.

Gods, I hardly care about that anymore. Of course, I want an heir, or several. But I want her more. I want her to feel as much pleasure as I do. To ‘peak,’ as Wylde and Orwyle put it. Aegon uses other words, but I find them too vulgar.

And in the library, making an heir would be the last thing on my mind. Even finding my own pleasure would be secondary. I would use my fingers to prepare her – perhaps get her to peak once before I even enter her?

Aegon says women can find release much more than men can. According to him, he once made a woman peak ten times in one night. I would be more amenable to believing him if he didn’t also claim he did so five times. But maybe he is right about ‘practising’ increasing stamina. Though he has had years of practice, and I have had only two days…

But in the dream world where I have the courage to approach her at all, and the gall to bed her in the library of all places (can you call it ‘bedding’ if it is not done in an actual bed?), I also have that stamina. And the skill to indeed make her peak with just my fingers.

I do not know what sounds she would make, as she was entirely silent on our wedding night, but I would want her to make them. I would want her to make such noise that I would have no choice but to kiss her to quiet her and keep her from drawing the attention of the rest of the library.

Even when I was buried within her, I would kiss her. With one arm wrapped around her hips to hold her steady as I fucked her so hard the table would shake, and the other hand tangled in her hair so I could kiss her just as hard.

I want to kiss her so badly. When I finally go to her again, that is what I will do first.

Once we had both finished – for I would ensure she peaked again with me inside her – I would kiss her more, softly, until our breathing steadied. Then, we would simply take our seats again, and this time, I would read to her.

By all the Seven, what has become of me? To not only have such thoughts but to revel in them as I do?

You didn’t bother reading the rest of the entry again before clutching the diary to your chest and staring at the bed canopy above you as a thousand questions burned through your mind and set your heart racing.

Had he been thinking about that the day he came to you in the library?

Was it what he intended to do, had you not reacted so poorly to his words?

Were you really wishing that he had?

You turned on your side, cradling his diary as you once did a small stuffed pony, and noticed for the first time that night had fallen – you had spent nearly the entire day reading. For a moment, you considered running to Aemond’s chambers. But when you looked back at the journal, there were still more than a dozen ribbons shut in its pages.

And if you went to him just after reading what you did…

Whatever was becoming of Aemond, no doubt thanks to the men he had asked for help in better bedding you, by reading his diary and the most private thoughts and fantasies contained within, it was becoming of you too. For when your eyes drifted closed, Aemond’s dream of the library became your dream as well.

-

The next several days of entries were almost identical.

Aemond woke at dawn after a night of dreams filled with you. They were not always of a carnal nature. Sometimes he dreamed simply of holding or kissing you. Once, he dreamed about flying with you atop his dragon. You didn’t know whether the prospect was thrilling or terrifying. Perhaps both.

Each day, he broke his fast, trained, then ate a small meal before joining court.

Before joining you.

When he wrote in the diary after dinner and several hours of studying and ‘practising’ (you still could not determine what that meant), he still remembered every little thing you did. You had never spoken at court – it was not your place to. But he had catalogued your every movement and reaction to the business of the realm. Every raise of your brows, every repressed smile, and every curious tilt of your head.

You thought you were quite proficient at maintaining a regal mask of indifference. Your mother had you practice it on the journey to King’s Landing while she commanded your brothers to shout at you the most outrageous things they could think of (much of which she promptly scolded them for when they were done).

But Aemond saw through the mask. Not only that, but he correctly interpreted every movement you made.

He knew that the twitch of your lip when Lord Bolton made a petition was a sign of your marked distaste for the man. He knew the scrunch of your brow upon the reading of a missive from a Pentosi diplomat was you noticing a contradiction from the previous message and realising the diplomat was lying. And he knew that you stiffened every time he looked at you because you were nervous about what he would say or do.

Aemond knew you. Even then.

And yet you had so dreadfully misunderstood him.

The shame of it was enough to make you set down the diary and call for a bath – a private bath, without any of your maids present even in the adjourning rooms. You gave an excuse that you were exhausted and simply wished to remain alone.

But really?

As part of his study of the anatomy book Orwyle recommended, Aemond had drawn a diagram of what lay between a woman’s legs. And annotated it based on the advice of Lord Wylde and Prince Aegon.

You were curious to see – with the aid of a hand mirror – just how accurate the diagram and annotations were.

-

You awoke the following morning feeling more refreshed than you had since you came to the palace, from both the welcome break in your courtly duties and the exploration you had conducted in the privacy of your bath. Though you were fairly sure you did not reach a ‘peak,’ as Aemond described it, you felt close to the height of something several times. But each time, you panicked at the intensity of the racing feelings within you and withdrew your hand. Still, those few minutes of pleasure were incredibly relaxing.

And as it was Aemond’s notes that allowed you to discover the feeling that your own clumsy attempts had failed to bring, the prospect that you would – eventually – once more join him in his bed became thrilling beyond reason.

In truth, the only thing that stopped you from rushing across the castle the very moment you emerged from the bath was the unfortunate fact that you were still bleeding, though it was light.

More than that, while your body was more than ready to forgive Aemond, your heart and mind were still hesitant. He had hurt you. He made you cry. Reading his diary helped you understand that it had never been intentional. However, you still needed to understand everything before making a final decision on whether to forgive him and if you could, as Aemond hoped in his note, ‘learn to like’ or even to love him.

So, after breaking your fast, you again settled into the couch and turned to the next green ribbon.

The 23rd day in the 5th moon of the year

Were Aegon not my brother and the heir, I would throw him from the top of the Rookery.

‘A Caution for Young Girls’ is no such thing. It is little more than a manual in promiscuity and sin!

But… damn him. It is quite educational.

Unlike the book Grand Maester Orwyle suggested, it is not focused on the science of anatomy or conception. Rather, it is entirely concerned with the pleasure of women. After all, it is the supposedly true story of a woman’s quest for pleasure.

A Wylde woman, if it is to be believed. I may have to ask Lord Jasper about it. Is this why he’s had such success with his own wives?

But that, and indeed the sinful nature of the book itself, is unimportant. What is important is that it may actually be the key to my learning how to pleasure my wife.

It spoke at length of various methods of using one’s fingers. Crooking the fingers while within seems to be crucial, as is locating a ‘sweet spot’ where her walls feel slightly different. That spot, as well as the ‘pearl’ which lays at the top of her sex, is the epicentre of her pleasure.

And, like the others said, preparation is required. This is where the use of the fingers comes into it – as well as various other methods. For example, the book mentions kissing quite often, and not only on the lips. Or the cheeks. Or even anywhere on the face.

I admit the idea, though it is new to me, is quite appealing. The book mentioned several places where women most like to be kissed. The jaw, the throat, behind the ear, the nape of the neck, the collarbone…

There was a spot of ink, as though Aemond’s pen had been resting on the page without moving for a long moment.

…the breasts, and lower.

I do not understand why. Perhaps it is because of Aegon’s incessant comments about the breasts of every woman in the Keep, save our mother and his wife – would that he would also exclude my wife! – but I find myself thinking about her breasts with startling frequency. I did not get to see them on our wedding night after I foolishly forgot to undress her.

There is a story in the book which… well, I find myself wanting to replicate. One which would provide me ample access to her breasts. But more than that, it carries an intimacy which I crave most of all.

When Lady Coryanne was serving as a handmaid to a warlock in Qarth, she often found herself called to help him ‘relax’ after a long day. On such occasions, she would mount him while he sat at his desk and ‘ride’ him while he buried his face in her breasts.

I… it was easy to imagine my wife and me in a similar, though more loving, position. Likely not at my desk, as I don’t actually use it often. But perhaps, here. On my chair by the hearth, where I read my books and write in this diary before bed.

She would come back – for she would be living here, with me, not across the Holdfast and so far away – after a long day. Maybe she would have been in the gardens, or with Mother, Helaena and the children, or in the library for hours. I would have been stuck away from her all day in meetings, court, or training.

Even apart from her for only a day, I would miss her terribly. As I do every hour I do not see her. And she would miss me too.

When she came in, she would press herself against the door as she locked it, then turn to me with a mischievous grin. I would know what she wanted, but I would not play along. Instead, I’d mutter a greeting and turn back to my book, pretending that my blood was not racing at just the sight of her. For I want her blood to be as heated as mine.

You read the last paragraph again, the realisation finally set in that Aemond was about to narrate another of his fantasies. Fortunately, after his previous entry about the library, you decided to be more cautious and had already dismissed your servants until your afternoon meal. You had suspected that there may be more in the diary that was thoroughly unsuitable for prying eyes.

And, thanks to his diligent notetaking, you knew precisely what to do when the feelings such unsuitable words provoked began to burn through you.

You undoubtedly did not want an audience for that…

I would let her tease me, pretending none of it fazed me. When she brushed her fingers lightly across my shoulders, I would not flinch. When she leaned over me further than she would really need to see what I was reading, but wanting me to see that peek of her breasts nearly spilling out from her dress, I would barely look. And when she pressed a kiss, long and slow, to my neck – gods, would I like that too? – I might even pretend it was an inconvenience.

It would vex her that I did not give her the attention she desperately wanted. Not enough to truly anger her, but only enough to make her pout. So that when she took the book from my hands and dropped it to the floor, then sat atop me in the chair with her thighs straddling mine… I would simply have no choice but to grab her little lip as she stuck it out and push it back into place before kissing her.

I would kiss her in every place the book instructs, taking my time to worship every bit of her. I want to drive her as mad as she does me just by her mere existence.

But I know she would not simply let me tease her. She would return each kiss I gave her and more. Atop me, she would roll her hips slowly, purposefully, as if we were engaged in a dance. I would be able to feel her, hot and wet and as eager as me, but each time I rose to meet her, she would pull away.

Gods, am I really wishing for her to deny me? Perhaps practising as Aegon instructed has conditioned me to crave such delays to my satisfaction.

Either way, I think I would break before she did. She is strong-willed, and with as many brothers as she has, I believe she can be quite patient. So, I would beg. I would apologise for trying to tease her and plead for her forgiveness. And for her to…

She would, I hope, without hesitation. She would rise only long enough for her to remove her smallclothes and for me to do away with my trousers. Then, we would both sit again, together, with me gently guiding her down to mount me – Seven Hells, that makes it sound like I’m a horse.

I’ll be whatever she wants.

Again, and as always, I would give her a moment to adjust and make sure she is comfortable. Orwyle’s book said that with well-endowed partners – which, according to the measurements in the book, I am – women may always need that moment.

But I would be glad to give it to her. For it would allow me to unlace her bodice, and like the warlock from the book, I could bury my face in my beloved’s breasts.

I find it hard to imagine what it would be like, how they would feel. Soft, I think. Warm, as she is. And perhaps, if I pressed close enough, I could hear her heart beating.

When I was fully settled within her, would I hear it beat faster? Or would it slow with contentment, knowing she was safe and loved – oh so dearly loved – within my arms. Perhaps it would be like the stories, and I would hear it skip a beat.

Either way, I would be more than content to just sit there, breathe her in, and let her move at her own pace. We would not need to be fast, as we would in the library. In my own rooms – our rooms – there would be no need for hurry. We could just stay there, entwined, or we could move together.

I think I would prefer it slowly. Not even seeking our releases, really. Just… enjoying each other. Enjoying the connection of our bodies, our minds, and our souls. Knowing that we are one, that the gods have made us one, and that nothing can tear us apart.

Although… I do think her legs would get tired after a while. That is something I should perhaps be worried about. Especially if she did want to move, and fast. To seek release.

If she did, I would help her. The book did not detail how, as Lady Coryanne was a servant at the time, but… I could figure it out. I could move my hips up to meet hers, or even lift her on my own? I think doing so with my hands on her hips would give me the most leverage. Or perhaps her rear?

I am very drawn to the idea of holding her close as we reach our peaks. Of feeling her breath on my skin, being close enough to hear each little noise she makes, and the sensation of her gripping me as tight as she can as she comes. Even the thought of her nails digging into me brings a certain thrill. And if I don’t reach my peak with her – which, I think, is very unlikely – we can always continue. Or move somewhere more comfortable if her legs do get tired.

At this point, I think I am more than ready to practice. Of course, this wasn’t my intention when I started writing, but… yes, I am most definitely ready. And anything else I wanted to write about seems inconsequential now.

You dropped the diary onto your heaving chest, the image Aemond’s words had painted still burning in your mind. Seven Hells, you could practically feel his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you to his chest as you moved together, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered words of praise between desperate kisses.

With a hazy smile, you snuggled further into the couch and beneath your blanket. As exhilarating as the descriptions of his desires were, what truly warmed your heart was the way he wrote about you, the two of you together.

The connection of your souls as one? It was exactly what you’d dreamed of when first told of your betrothal. Aemond was what you dreamed of.

Why did he have to stop writing? What in the name of the Seven was he practising that was more important than that?

Frustrated and with your pleasure now truly over, you closed the diary and turned on your side, resigned to simply stewing in your own thoughts for the few hours left until your maids returned.

-

After a light, solitary afternoon meal, you again dismissed your maids. By this point, they were more than a little suspicious about the titleless book you were reading. But, you insisted that you simply wanted to be alone, for your moon’s blood still plagued you. It wasn’t entirely a lie. You did still have some cramping and a slight headache.

In truth, it was because you knew what would happen in just a few entries – your second night together.

It surely wouldn’t be as thrilling as some of his other fantasies. You knew that firsthand. But after learning what Aemond felt for you, you were desperate to know his side of that night.

So desperate, in fact, that you barely skimmed the following two entries in your haste to reach it. Both primarily had to do with whatever smut he had read in A Caution for Young Girls. The first was a rather exhaustive list of all the ways he wanted to kiss you – and there were far more ways than you were previously aware of.

The second caused your most intense blushing yet, for it was near treasonous! After reading another story of Coryanne Wylde ‘riding’ a man, he fantasised about you riding him while he sat on the Iron Throne. It was an intriguing idea, but it seemed a little too hazardous to tempt you.

Finally, you reached what you had been waiting for.

The 26th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I had hoped not to make an entry today – for I had every intention of spending tonight in my wife’s chambers. But she is there, and tragically, I am here.

Tonight was almost worse than our wedding night.

When I saw her watching me in the training yard today, I thought… she was almost smiling – at me! She had no obligation to be there, and yet she was! She sought me out! She wanted to see me!

I had to bite back a cry of joy and relief. I immediately abandoned the rest of my training, nearly impaling the poor squire with my sword for how hard I threw it at him, so I could rush to the ramparts and greet her.

But when I got there, she was gone. I asked a few of the other lords and ladies that were there, but no one knew where she went. Even after speaking to her, however briefly, I still do not understand why she left.

You felt your cheeks flush with shame. Aemond hadn’t grimaced at you that day – quite the opposite. He had been so excited to see you there, and as usual, you had misinterpreted his reaction.

Or, based on how frequently these misunderstandings occurred, perhaps his expressions were merely indecipherable to normal people. Or, more likely, maybe just to you.

You set his diary down, careful to use one of your discarded ribbons to mark your place, and picked up your own. By this point, you had filled several pages with your reactions to Aemond’s writing – some of it sincere, some bordering on humour.

Yet you had no words to express how sorry you were that you had so thoroughly misjudged him. So you wrote nothing and just kept reading.

When I went to her chambers to check on her, I encountered one of her maids, who told me she had retired early with a headache and would not be joining the family for dinner.

Perhaps I should have gone into her chambers then and asked what was wrong. I knew – or at least suspected – that the headache was a lie. An excuse to allow her privacy. I often do the same, citing my scar. Which, as I told her, is not always a lie.

But if I had gone to her, as I wished. I would not have known what to say. Ask her why she ran from the training yard without speaking to me? Or why she wanted to avoid me and the family? Tell her I’m sorry for the disappointment of our wedding night? Ask Beg for a second chance?

I could not do it. I was tired from training and admittedly still somewhat discombobulated from realising she had been watching me. Though I did make it to her door, I merely touched the handle for a moment before retiring to my own chambers.

Now, after yet another disastrous visit… I should have gone to her earlier. I should have trusted my instincts (as Aegon often encourages me to do) instead of allowing my mind to think itself into an inescapable hole.

As I bathed and redressed, and even while attending court and dinner, I could not stop thinking about her. Agonising over what I may have done to make her flee from me?

I never even considered that she may actually have a headache until I was again at her door after dinner. The fear that I was disturbing her, perhaps making her pain worse, was nearly enough to make me turn and flee.

But then, her voice came, soft and light and so enticing. Of course, I somehow managed to answer idiotically when she asked who it was. Though she lessened the sting of embarrassment with a small joke. She is so achingly clever!

I asked her how she was, and her answer made it evident that the headache was a ruse. I am trying not to be too proud that my deduction was correct. She is not used to lying, nor is she good at it. And it is yet another thing I admire about her.

For hours, I planned what I would say to her. It was eloquent and thoughtful – practically poetry.   

The tail of the last ‘y’ extended nearly an inch, and you imagined Aemond just staring at the page, consumed by his thoughts for a moment.

But her room looked different tonight. She finally unpacked.

There is a large tapestry above her hearth depicting her home keep, the field below filled with vibrant pink flowers with bright yellow centres. The same flowers appear nearly everywhere. On framed examples of embroidery, on her curtains, pillows, and even the blanket strewn over the back of her couch.

I must find out what they are, for they are clearly very important to her.

You looked up from the diary, glancing about your room. Indeed, you had not realised how many dog roses decorated your possessions. It was no wonder he guessed they were your favourite.

‘I was quite impressed when you brought me my favourite flower,’ you wrote in your diary. ‘I thought you had somehow read my thoughts. I suppose I made it easy for you.’

She also has a large bookcase in her sitting room, which was specifically requested when her father sent word accepting the betrothal. Since the last time I was in her chambers, she has begun to fill the shelves with books and trinkets. I spotted a small silver bell, a wooden box carved with various birds, and a little glass flower. It was not the same flower that is so prevalent elsewhere in her chambers (this one was a pale purple rather than pink), but still quite pretty.

While pondering that flower, I returned to the couch to compare it to the pink flower on her blanket and saw what she had been reading – “The Last Dragonlords,” my first, and still favourite, history of my house. It is not a particularly rigorous academic work, but I prefer it for the sense of wonder it has for the story of my ancestors.

If, at that point, I remembered any of what I wanted to say to her, the sight of that book, and the knowledge that she was somehow reading my favourite… I lost all words. I fear I fell silent for an uncomfortably long time, for she spoke next.

She wanted to know the reason for my visit. I asked her directly about the ruse of her headache. She seemed nervous, so I told her I do the same and that I often experience lingering pain. I was tempted to remove my patch and show her, but… she was already quite nervous. I did not want to make her more so, or frighten her so thoroughly that she will never warm to me.

What lay beneath his eyepatch that would frighten you so? You had heard many rumours. That his lost eye was nothing more than a pit of darkness. That he had replaced it with a jewel. That an ever-burning fire, fueled by his hatred and rage, burned within.

Despite the stories, you felt a twinge of shame and hurt that, despite his love for you, he did not trust you with seeing him truly bare. He thought you could be frightened away.

Somehow, that shame far overshadowed any curiosity or fear about what lay beneath the brown leather of his eyepatch.

I could already tell it wasn’t going to go how I wanted – she would not meet my eye. So, I offered to leave. I would not impose myself on her when she did not want me to. That is not how I want to start this. Or, start it again.

But she did want me to go! At least, that is what I thought she meant. I am not so sure anymore. She said something about my right to be there as her husband. At the time, I thought it was her shy way of asking me to stay. Now… I think she may have just been repeating something her mother or a Septa taught her.

There was another small patch of angry scribbles.

I’m so stupid! And hardly better than Aegon. No – she may not have been particularly enthusiastic, but I am sure if she genuinely did not want me there, she would have said so. And I would have obeyed. After all, she was quick to ask me to stop some of the other things I tried to do.

She did not like the kissing.

When I first mentioned that I would like to lie with her – which I foolishly reasoned was out of my desire for an heir instead of my desire for her – she simply laid on the bed like on our wedding night. But that is not what I want. I do not want this to simply be a union of duty! At least, not anymore. And I so wanted to kiss her.

So, I beckoned her to me, and she obeyed. My hopes that this would be different were still relatively high. I got closer, touched her face, and asked if I could kiss her.

And she asked, ‘Why?’

I swear that one little word hurt more than any pain I’ve felt in the training yard. Almost more than… well, not quite more than that. But close.

I could not think of any reason other than that she is my wife, and I love her and want more than anything to kiss her. I only told her the former and the latter, for I think if I told her I loved her, she would have been more afraid than if she had seen me without my patch. And the gods must be good, for she said yes.

Then I kissed her. I held her close, and I kissed her.

It was the most wonderful thing! She was soft and warm. And when I laced my hand through her hair, she made the most delightful sound! I could have just kissed her forever.

But then it was over. She shouted and pushed me away. It was… it was just after I tried to use my tongue. I don’t think she liked it.

She asked me why I ‘needed’ to kiss her. She must have disliked it very much.

I had no other explanation than what I had already offered. At least, none that I could tell her without sending her running from me forever. So I stopped and told her I did not need it – the first lie I’ve ever told her.

When she moved back to the bed, I could not help myself. I could not let us be in a marriage where we lie together out of nothing more than duty, fully clothed and anxious to get it over with. It was foolish, and I probably scared her with the request, but I asked her to remove her nightgown. She had already taken off her robe – a massive thing in her house colours that practically drowns her.

You allowed a brief kernel of anger to spark within you, enough for you to pick up your pen and write him another little message in your diary.

‘That robe is dear to me, thank you very much. What is it that makes you hate it so?’

There is nothing more beautiful in the world than her. She puts even the Maiden to shame. I would have been happy to stare at her, to take in that beauty until I had my fill – if I would ever get my fill.

She got on the bed and positioned herself exactly how she was on our wedding night. Not quite how I pictured it, but considering her hesitancy, I did not want to push her.

It took all my control to stop myself from kissing her again when I undressed and joined her. But I did. I also resisted doing anything more than just looking at her breasts.

I sat between her legs and stared at her. While I was more than ready to begin, she was not. At all. Of course, I knew I would have to prepare her, but I hoped she would have had at least some desire for me already.

I started with gentle touches, drawing circles on her thighs. She shivered a bit when I began, but she didn’t ask me to stop. From where I was sitting, I could tell she enjoyed it, even if she didn’t understand it. She did ask me to explain, and my answer was probably lacking – how does one explain why he was so inadequate? – but she gave a small nod when I promised that tonight would be better.

Then I finally touched her where I really wanted to and was delighted to find her… well, not as wet as I’d hoped, but it was an improvement upon our wedding night! I ran my fingers over her entrance, hoping to coax more wetness from her before I truly began. And when I looked at her again to ensure I wasn’t hurting her, she smiled at me!

Encouraged, I kept my fingers at her entrance, not venturing inside yet, but continuing my preparations there while I began to seek her pearl. As the books said, I only had to draw a straight line upward from her entrance to find it.

And, oh, when I found it! Her eyes snapped shut, her back arched off the bed, and the most glorious whine escaped her! It was everything I had imagined and more. Gods, I think I could have peaked just from watching her as I circled her pearl again and again, faster and faster.

But then, she asked me to stop – begged me to.

I thought I must have done something wrong, but she shook her head when I asked if it hurt. And when I asked if it felt good, she would not answer. She merely requested that I get on with what I needed to do and leave, for she was tired. This wound cut even deeper than before with the kissing.

I wanted to prepare her more – I was going to use my mouth on her. To show her how dearly I wish to please her, how much I want to worship and love her, if only she’d let me.

In anticipation of that act, I have been consulting Coryanne Wylde’s various accounts and expert critiques of the act in order to form the perfect strategy.

To begin, I would undress her, as I planned to do on our wedding night, laying gentle, nearly chaste kisses on each new bit of skin I revealed. Once she was bare, I would kiss her. Deeply. To give her a taste of what is to come. Then, I would kiss my way down. Her jaw, her throat, her collarbone, her breasts, and the plane of her stomach.

Once I made it past her navel, I would take her leg in my hand and begin a new trail of kisses upwards. The book says to start at the ankle, but I am too impatient for that – I will begin at the knee instead.

Just when she thought I was finally about to give her what she craved more than anything, I would once again change course to kiss her lips one final time. Then, I would descend.

I would start slowly, experimenting with different tactics to determine what drives her deliciously mad. Once I knew, I would feast. I would devour her like her pleasure was the air I needed to breathe. Like her cries of pleasure were beautiful music, and I would die if it ever stopped.

I would bring her to peak once with my mouth on her entrance. Again on her pearl. Then again and again in whichever way made her scream the loudest.

Only when she was so drunk with pleasure that she could no longer rise to meet my mouth or grasp at my hair would I relent. I would make my way back up to her mouth and soothe her with gentle kisses until she had regained herself and was begging for me to finally fuck her.

But I didn’t get to do any of that.

She asked me to stop, so I did. I pumped myself a little to ensure the disappointment hadn’t rendered me incapable of performing my duty and entered her.

The preparation did help. Entering her was easier, and she did not wince as much as the first time. And she felt even more heavenly somehow. The feeling was so intense that I had to take a moment to remind myself that she only wanted me to finish quickly so she would not have to endure me any longer.

So, I fucked her. I did not make love to her, as is my true desire. I just fucked her, like she was just any woman and not the love of my life.

And then, a miracle! I thrust into her, something about the angle allowing me in quite deep, and she reacted. She gasped, breathless, and her hips snapped up to meet mine. I froze in surprise and elation. I found her ‘sweet spot!’

But when I smiled at her, she turned away and refused to look at me again.

I just kept going. I did not try to hit that spot again, so as to not upset her further. I finished as quickly as I could and left the bed.

It was stupid of me, but I turned back to her after dressing. Everything had gone so horribly, but I still love her. I still need her. So I could not just leave her like that.

I asked if I could kiss her again. She let me. I was quick, as promised.

Then I came back here, once again alone and no closer to earning her love than I was before.

I must meet with my advisors again tomorrow. Perhaps they can help me understand why I keep fucking this up so badly when all I want is for her to let me love her the way I want to and for her to love me in return.

Your heart ached so severely that you thought there might be bruises when you looked down at your chest. But there was just skin – skin that Aemond would have happily kissed, had you let him.

As horrible and confusing as that night had been for you, it had been so tenfold for Aemond. He had wanted a grand, romantic evening, and you had greeted him with only coldness and suspicion.

He called you ‘the love of his life.’ You ran your finger over those words so many times that they became smudged, then went to write something in your diary but halted with your pen hovering over the paper.

What could you write to match what he’d said about you? Even if you could, would it really be true? How many times could you say, ‘I’m sorry?’

Well, at least one more time. ‘I’m so sorry, Aemond,’ you wrote, ‘I didn’t know, and I was still scared. Not of you, but of what I thought my life was to be. If you had only told me… I do not blame you, I swear. I just wish the both of us had been more honest with each other.’

You were far too exhausted to continue. It was not yet midafternoon, and you had already been from the near-heights of carnal pleasure to the depths of your despair that the unfortunate state of your marriage was, in actuality, mostly your fault.

So, after setting Aemond’s diary aside, you picked up your embroidery basket and began to work while your mind wandered.

It was only when your maids arrived to bring you dinner that you realised that, somehow, the dog roses you intended to make had become a sprawling wisteria vine.

-

You dreamed of the castle garden in late spring when all the flowers were in bloom. As you walked down the garden path, you saw every colour imaginable amongst the vibrant greens. But there was only one flower you really wanted to see – and the man you knew would be waiting for you beneath them.

Just as the first purple tendrils came into view, the dream faded, and you woke to see the first hints of dawn still beneath the horizon.

Drawing your blankets over your head, you squeezed your eyes shut and stubbornly tried to fall back asleep and return to your dream – to no avail. You were well and truly awake. And it would be some time before your maids came to dress you for the day.

So, dragging the blanket from your bed with you, you trudged back into your solar and settled into the couch before picking up Aemond’s diary again.

The 27th day in the 5th moon of the year

I met with Lord Wylde, Grand Maester Orwyle, and Aegon this morning. They had advice, but it was not as… straightforward as I had hoped. There is no simple trick to get her to love me. Nothing I can study from a book and then implement with assured success.

I have to woo her. I have to be witty and pleasant and charming and… romantic.

I do not think this is going to work.

Especially not after my first attempt was so disastrous.

Lord Wylde asked that I tell him about her, so I did. When he learned she enjoys reading as much as I do, he suggested I try to find common ground there. So, I went to try and find her in the library.

She was exactly where she was the last time I saw her there, still reading “The Last Dragonlords.” I watched her for a moment, savouring the look of contentment on her face as she read, as well as a few quick reactions to the book. How I love it when her nose scrunches in displeasure!

‘That is quite the odd thing to fixate on,’ you wrote in your diary. It seemed a decent night’s sleep had helped recover some of your humour. ‘What is it, in particular, that you like about my scrunched nose?’

She did smile at me when I approached, but I think she thought I was a Maester, for her smile faltered when I greeted her. And she was so shy. Usually, when I struggle to find the right words, she breaks the silence. Today, she did not.

At least it gave me time to remember why I came to the library. She was still reading “The Last Dragonlords,” so I told her it was my favourite and asked if I could join her. I think she was somewhat embarrassed about reading a children’s book, but I assured her it was no matter and that I would nonetheless enjoy reading it with her, and she allowed me to sit with her.

My plan was to sit with her, discuss the histories, and perhaps, in time, hold her hand as a first step toward genuine affection. But the plan quickly went awry.

It all happened so fast that I don’t even remember exactly what I said. But somehow, I insinuated that she was not intelligent enough to understand the book. The book meant for children – young children.

She was very upset with me. Rightfully so! Still upset enough that she stormed out of the library after making several cutting remarks that proved that she is, in fact, quite intelligent.

After several minutes and a brief reprimand from one of the Maesters, I finally gathered myself enough to realise that she had left the book there. As well as several pages of notes.

Of course, the noble thing would have been to not look and ask a servant to return them to her. But in that moment, I was desperate, not noble. So, I looked.

Her notes were beautifully organised and remarkably thorough – the work of a true scholar! She even crafted a beautiful family tree all the way through Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters. Had I not fumbled our initial interaction so entirely, we would have had a wonderful discussion.

You had feared him finding the notes, but you had never considered that he would be impressed rather than arrogantly amused. It made sense now that you knew his true nature. Perhaps, once whatever was between you was resolved, you could have that discussion.

In all honesty, there were a few questions you had that you hoped he would be able to answer. Not least of which being why in more than a thousand years, Targaryens had only come up with a dozen names that they repeated over and over again. You wrote as much in your diary.

It was useless for me to sulk in the library, agonising over what I should have said, so I gathered the book and her notes and left the library.

An apology was more than necessary, so I went to Aegon’s rooms. After all, there is perhaps no one with more experience apologising to women. Even if his apologies are self-serving.

When I arrived, I found Mother had already found Aegon first, and was well into another tirade about his behaviour. Normally, I would be happy to watch Mother yelling at him, but I did not feel I had time to. And Aegon was glad that I granted him a reprieve.

Admittedly, I had not wanted to admit to Mother that my wife and I were… not as close as I wanted. But, as she always is, she was eminently understanding, and far more helpful than Aegon was. His only suggestion was to bring her something nice – jewels, silks, or the like.

On the other hand, Mother gave me sage advice on what to say when I go to her. As my words have been my primary point of failure, I was very grateful for this. She did also say that a gift would not be amiss. An ‘offering of peace,’ she called it. But she advised something personal, not luxurious. If the gift is too valuable, she says, it will seem as if I am trying to buy her forgiveness rather than earn it.

I knew immediately what I should get her. I thanked Mother (and Aegon) and left at once for the gardens.

I found them – the flowers she loves so dearly. Dog roses, they are called. Unfortunately, they do not grow well in our climate, but the Maester’s managed to coax a few to bloom with their various potions and other horticultural creations.

They are almost as beautiful as her.

The Maester I spoke to said that it would be best if I had them cut just before I brought them to her, to preserve their beauty. So that is what I will do.

I will not practice tonight. At least… not that kind of practice. Instead, I will rehearse my apology. I cannot fail tomorrow.

You winced slightly, knowing that the next day would not go as Aemond planned and feeling as though it was your fault. But there was no changing that now. And you had already apologised – often and profusely.

So, you wrote only a simple note: ‘I don’t recall seeing dog roses on our tour of the gardens. Did you pluck them all?’

Looking back at his diary, you took a deep, steadying breath. Only two ribbons left.

The 28th day in the 5th moon of the year

I am the stupidest, most idiotic man in all the seven fucking kingdoms.

All I was trying to do was apologise to her for my unkind – though unintentionally so! – words in the library, but somehow it ended with her crying and me fleeing from her chambers yet again.

You cringed at the memory, almost not wanting to read on.

Aegon gladly offered his explanation, even after I told him I did not want it. He insists that I have so thoroughly repulsed her that she cannot help but burst into tears at the sight of me.

Mother thinks that she is just missing her family and her home, as she said. That she is overwhelmed by being alone in a strange place, and the familiar sight of the flowers – dog roses, as I have learned – brought those feelings to bursting.

Perhaps Mother is right. But her parents left a fortnight ago, and she has shown no other signs of homesickness. And she is not alone! She has the other ladies of the court to talk to, and Helaena and Mother adore her. And me.

If she came to me, I would do anything to cheer her. Not that she would seek comfort from me, no matter how dearly I wish she would. She certainly won’t after today.

After the disaster in the library yesterday and the scolding I received from Grand Maester Orwyle after my training this morning, I knew beyond a doubt that I needed to apologise. I… the shame I feel for having played any part in the state Orwyle described her in is unbearable.

So, I went to the gardens and had a Maester cut the flowers for me and arrange them in a simple bouquet.

She was on her couch when I arrived in her rooms – still in her nightgown and that robe. And again, she did not look at me. She had eyes only for the flowers. I thought then that they had been the right choice.

I apologised, but she did not react. She still just stared at the bouquet. So, I went ahead with the rest of my apology.

Then she touched my hand. It startled me, and I pulled away from her on instinct, dropping the bouquet in her lap. She looked at them like I had dropped a helpless kitten rather than flowers!

And she started crying. Softly, the tears welling in her eyes for a long moment before spilling over. I do not understand what I did to upset her. I said only what I had planned last night. It was so hard to resist brushing the tears away, but she seemed nearly volatile, and I did not want to make things worse.

‘I miss home,’ she said, finally.

It did sting that she does not consider King’s Landing and her life with me her home – it still does. But she is hundreds of miles away from the family of her birth, from the people who have undoubtedly treated her better than I have. I cannot blame her.

I apologised again for upsetting her and left.

At dinner, I had planned to ask Mother and Grandsire if we could find a way to send her home, at least for a little while. So she could be happy. Perhaps I could even go with her. I might have an easier time talking to her without the pressures of my family and the capital upon me.

You smiled at the thought of Aemond at your home keep. Of him in all his black leather among the fields of dog roses. Talking with your father in the library. Him training with your brothers – you were confident he could defeat any one of them alone, but knowing your brothers, they would absolutely gang up on him.

‘One day,’ you wrote, ‘I would love to show you my home.’

I was waiting for the opportunity to ask when she arrived! After this afternoon, I did not think she would come to dinner, but she did! I could have wept for my relief.

And when I offered my hand to her, she took it. Not only that, but she squeezed it – hard. I think believe it was her way of accepting my apology.

She did not speak during dinner, nor did anyone ask her too many questions. Aegon was his typically infuriating self, silently encouraging me to do something with her. What he expects me to do when in front of the entire family, I do not know.

After the meal, I offered to escort her back to her chambers, which she accepted. And once we were alone, she thanked me for the flowers!

It was going unusually well. That is, until I decided to open my mouth. I only meant to compliment her, as she did look quite beautiful, but… I just kept talking. And then I had suddenly insulted her gown from yesterday and her robe.

She closed herself off from me then, shoving away my arm. Why could I not just shut up? I know my words are the source of so many of our misunderstandings, yet I keep talking! At this point, I am strongly considering a vow of silence.

‘Please don’t take a vow of silence!’ you wrote, scrambling for your diary as if it mattered how quickly you got the words down. ‘Your voice is far too lovely for me to never hear it again.’

Tomorrow, I am going to try a suggestion from Lord Wylde. Show her that I am not a failure in everything I do. I pray it works.

You turned the page, expecting to find the entry for the next day, but there was none. There had been a page between the entries for the 28th and the 30th, but it had been sloppily torn out. All that remained was the beginnings of the date in the upper corner.

It was entirely against what you knew of Aemond. The man who had dutifully started his journal on the first day of the year and began each entry on a new page would not do something like this.

What had upset him so? Had you said something to him?

No, of course not. The only time you had seen him that day was in the training yard, and you hadn’t spoken to each other, not after… not after he stormed off. Had he actually been hurt in his fight with the Kingsguard? Or was he just embarrassed that you had witnessed him fall?

Gods, how you wished you had gone to him that night. But perhaps you could make up for it now.

‘After you were absent for dinner,’ you wrote to him in your diary, ‘I almost came to your rooms. I was worried for you. Though I confess, that was the only reason I found myself walking toward you… I missed you, at dinner. I missed you helping me into my chair. I missed your smile. I missed the way you’d hold the plates for me. Most of all, I missed your voice, and your presence next to me.’

You sniffled slightly, staring at a lamp on your wall to dry the tears that were forming before finishing the entry, ‘I’ve missed you these past days, as well. But I’m almost done. I’ll see you soon.’

The 30th day in the 5th moon of the year

I have made my gravest sin yet. And my most foolish.

We had the perfect morning together in the gardens. Silent, mostly, but perfect. She smiled at me! She allowed me to lead her through the gardens on my arm. It was… precisely what I had hoped for.

Until I once again acted like an absolute fucking fool.

Before I had to leave for court, I asked if I could come to her rooms that night. And for one perfect moment, I really believed she was going to say yes.

But then she mentioned her moon’s blood, and I just… panicked. I am not entirely an idiot (though I become less sure of that declaration with each passing moment), I know what that means.

It means that I’ve failed her. In even more ways than I knew.

I have made her miserable. I have made her cry. I have failed in every duty of a good husband, including the most basic of tasks – I have not given her a child.

I cannot go on like this – trapped in an endless cycle of misery where I can do nothing but hurt the both of us. I must do something to free us from this.

It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t love or even like me. I just want her to be happy. If that means that I never get to see her or love her again, I will make myself accept that.

First, she needs to know why I’ve acted this way. To know my true feelings so she can decide what she wants me to do. Gods, if she wanted me to go to Essos and never return, I would.

A blot of ink covered half the page, as though he had simply set his pen down while he thought.

I know what to do. I just pray she understands.

“I understand,” you said aloud, as though Aemond were before you. But, of course, he wasn’t. He was halfway across the castle, a distance that suddenly felt like the Narrow Sea itself. Throwing down your blanket, you shouted for your maids to dress you at once, your morning meal be damned. The moment finished tying off the last lace of your gown, you ran.

You had only been shown where Aemond’s chambers were once – on your first tour of the Holdfast. Then, you did not know whether to be disappointed or thankful that they were far from yours. Now, as your nervousness flooded through every part of your body, you hated the distance more than anything.

Each step was an effort, as with every one, your legs felt heavier and heavier, as if they were made of iron. Your blood felt as though it was rushing dangerously fast, carrying with it a marked chill. Despite feeling frozen within, sweat still somehow beaded at your brow. Yet you could not wipe it away, for your hands were all but stitched to the two diaries you carried.

Was this a terrible idea? Would Aemond laugh at you for all your silly little notes? Would he be angry with you for taking days to fulfil his request? You came to a halt in the middle of the corridor, tears prickling in your eyes as you considered so many horrible possibilities.

No, you thought, the word echoed by the impact of your foot on stone as you took a heavy, sure step forward.

The Aemond you thought you knew would do those things. But that Aemond wasn’t real – and never was. He had only ever lived in your terrified imagination.

The real Aemond was the one who had been so awestruck upon first seeing you that he could not say anything other than your name. Who had fallen for you so quickly and with such intensity that he forgot how to act like a proper person and instead stumbled over his words and actions like a drunk man through a crowded alley. Who had been so desperate for you to return his affections that he swallowed his pride to seek help. And who had finally given you his diary when he could think of no other way to show you how he really felt and who he truly was.

It was the thought of finally meeting that Aemond that made you put one foot in front of the other, faster and faster, until you were sprinting down the halls, only stopping when you came to the door you had seen only once before – his door.

You did not understand how you had found it again after only seeing it only once before. Nor did you remember knocking on the smooth, dark wood.

But then you heard footsteps approaching.

Hastily, you transferred the diaries to one hand and wiped the sweat from your brow with the sleeve of the other. You wanted to straighten your hair, for it had surely come loose from its braid after running so fast. But there was no time for that.

There was the dull, metallic sound of the door being unlatched, and then there he was.

Aemond stood before you, breathing heavily himself as though he, too, had been running. His silver hair was mussed, and there were smudges of purple beneath his widened eyes – his eyes.

He was not wearing his eyepatch.

Your mouth fell open at the sight. At least one of the rumours had been true. Beneath the raised, rough skin of his scar, in place of his lost eye, was a brilliant blue sapphire. It suited him perfectly and was perhaps the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

He looked at you for a moment, the corners of his mouth lifting in a hesitant smile before realising what had caught your attention so thoroughly.

“Oh gods,” he whispered, covering the sapphire with his hands and turning away. He took a few steps into the room before speaking again. “I did not mean for you to see this. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Please…”

You said nothing. Silently, you moved into the room and shut the door. Aemond stared at you, his good eye watering as you approached him.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again. “You should not have had to – ” He startled when you brought your free hand up to his wrist and started trying to tug his hand away from his face. “What are you…?”

When your only response was to continue tugging, he relented, allowing you to lower his hand. He swallowed thickly, fixing his good eye on the wall behind you instead of at you. Seeing his shyness, and now knowing it for what it was, almost made you smile.

But your own shyness took hold of you as you guided his hand down and wrapped it around the spines of the twin journals you held. When you looked back up at Aemond, he was staring at them and the green ribbon that now marked a page within your diary.

“I don’t understand,” he breathed, tightening his hold on the books.

With a slight smirk, you gazed up at him and dropped your hand from the diaries. “It’s your turn.”

[mothiir]

yknow what??? fuck it. im not even gonna turn on anon. IM NOT EVEN GONNA DO IT!! because at this point you'd clock my ass a nautical mile off for who it is just bc im gonna ask for exactly what you caught me for on anon LAST TIME.

SO,,,, haha,,,, heyyyy mothiiiiir,,,, pllllleeeasse more nasty ass rabbit/emp headcanonnns OR writing or anything,, you always cook and im one starving ass loser.

thank you ily and your writing once again ok ok ok BYEEE

cw: angst, not what you intended but this got me thinking about the emperor and then uh. we got this. not set in the little rabbit verse, which will soon become obvious. playing loose with the canon timelines because i don’t know exactly how the burning of monarchia went down.

—

—

Monarchia burns — and three days later, Guilliman and his sons make planet fall.

—

It takes a great deal to surprise a Primarch, and yet here Guilliman is, blinking at the charred rubble of your former capital, struggling to find words.

“Say that again,” he says, at length. You sit up from your prostrated position, lifting your head just enough to address his shins rather than the ground.

“There is no penance great enough for the crime we have committed against the Emperor and the Imperium,” you say, your voice soft, but ringing clear. “There is no punishment that we do not deserve for such blatant defiance of the Imperial Truth. I can state that we were misled — which is true — and that we were ignorant, but that is no excuse. All I can say is that when I discovered that my Lord Husband was acting in defiance of the Emperor’s wishes, I acted as swiftly as I could to remedy it.”

It makes even less sense the second time around. The once-glorious city is wreathed in flames; the sun blotted out by a miasma of smoke. The same story is repeated across the entire planet. A revolution almost overnight — temples torn down, idols cast into the sea, believers put to the sword. The few Word Bearers that remained had died at their posts; they had slaughtered thousands of their kinsman, but died all the same. Bears torn down by hounds.

“You did this,” he says. You shake your head minutely. Your hair — once a glorious braid almost to your waist, always ornamented with some fancy that Lorgar had gifted you — has been chopped into an unkempt bob around your shoulders. Guilliman vaguely remembers a tale amongst Lorgar’s adopted people: of a queen who had lost a great battle, and shorn her locks in penance.

“No my lord. I did nothing. My people acted against the rot in our ranks. They carved it out.”

“Millions have died.”

“It is no great loss that those who would espouse the evils of theology perish,” you say, your voice as flat and featureless as a windless sea. “All I ask is that those that remain…”

For a moment, emotion returns to your voice, colouring it.

“All I ask is that some of them be spared. Please.”

You lift your face for the first time since his arrival. Your lips are lined with blood, shadows hung beneath eyes sunk deep into their sockets. In the space of three days, you seem to have aged decades — from a fresh-faced woman in the bloom of youth, to a crone who has seen the ending of all that she loves.

—

The seas do not boil. The sky does not burn. Another battle is brought to a shuddering, decisive end as the Ultramarines join on the side of your rebels — no, you cannot think of them as such. They are not rebels; they are vindicated. They are fighting for the truth, for what is right and good. They are crusaders.

You — you are not a crusader. You are not sure what to call yourself. Lorgar called you a goddess; a title that always disquieted you, but you accepted it, for his eyes shone so when he looked at you, and he made love to you as though you were the only thing that mattered. Now, you have lost count of the number of men and women who have died for referring to you as such.

You are not a widow either. Your husband lives, though you do not know where he is. Once, Lorgar pressed his hand to your chest and felt the thrum of your heart against his palm and said that no matter where you went there was a golden cord that bound your heart to his; that no void nor fire could split asunder what was joined in love.

You dream that you wind a golden chain around your hands, pull it taut, and bite until your teeth chip, until your tongue bleeds, until it frays into dust on your lips.

—

When you meet the Emperor, you press your forehead to the cinder-warm flagstones that used to be a marketplace, and you wait for death. You know, in a distant dreamy sort of way, that you should be afraid, but you are not. You accepted your death what seems like a lifetime ago — in reality, it is less than four days since you gave the order to start burning the temples.

The irony of it all. People answered your call to arms, to not-so-holy war, because you are Lorgar’s bride, because you are the woman once called goddess. And what did you do with the power that he gave you? You ordered that his greatest works be destroyed.

But what else could you have done?

Colchis is your home. And in his arrogance — in his endless childish arrogance — Lorgar would have let it burn to ash rather than do as he had been bid. Did he truly believe his father a god? If so, why would he not obey his commandments as soon as they were given?

Thinking this way hurts you — not only because it stirs anger like a wounded animal in your breast, but because it throws into stark relief how Lorgar’s mind contained chasms and corners you never saw. How even though you gave yourself to him as completely as a woman can, he always kept parts of himself hidden from you — but you will not waste time delving into that labyrinth. His beliefs are inconsequential. Only the facts matter. Lorgar worshipped his father as a god. Lorgar was told to stop. Lorgar did not.

You visited the day of judgement upon Colchis before the Emperor got the chance, betting everything on a single desperate gesture. You do not regret it, though you will dream of the dying wails of your people until the end of your days. If you had not acted, all would have died. Now, maybe — just maybe — some may live.

“The girl acted in the best interests of her people,” the Emperor says, and it is only then that you realise precisely what was happening: he was rifling around in your head, subtly enough that you could not see the intrusion; mistaking his exploration for an ill-timed moment of navel-gazing. All at once, pain rushes into your knees and thighs, knife-like cramps. How long have you been kneeling there?

Then, inexplicably, a wash of frustration: girl, he calls you. Girl. You are staring down your third decade of life — nothing for one such as him, of course, but really.

Girl. You carved out your still-warm heart and laid it on a flaming altar and he refers to you as girl.

“Stand,” he says, and you obey, fighting the hysterical urge to snort with laughter — you’re exhausted, swooning, and starting to feel the after-effects of the universe’s most powerful psyker reading your thoughts. Blood drips down your chin. “I am satisfied with the efforts of your loyal Imperial citizens against the primitive cultists.”

“Thank you my lord,” you say, keeping your gaze fixed on the ground — thus missing entirely the swift, puzzled look Guilliman gives you, for ‘I am satisfied’ is more praise than the Emperor normally gives anyone.

(And perhaps it is just a trick of the light, or the wild shadows cast by the afterglow of battle, but Guilliman swears that just for a moment his father smiles.)

“Heracles,” says the Emperor, addressing one of the gigantic golden sentinels standing to attention beside him. “You will escort her aboard the Bucephalus. We will speak further when I have dealt with my son.”

The golden sentinel inclines her head, and you try your best to stay upright, your legs shaky as a newborn colt. You do not think of what the Emperor will do to Lorgar; you cannot.

“It goes without saying,” says the Emperor, almost as an afterthought. “But your marriage to him is annulled.”

Eight years. Your life; your heart; that golden cord. What love has joined together, none may tear asunder - except that is not true, was never true.

“Yes my lord,” you say.

[svsssfanonarchive]

out of curiosity, i know in some versions mobei jun is called mo beijun, which one is canon? are both canon?

Ah, for this one it is a transliteration issue-- Mobei-jun is the better way to write it, but the original is 漠北君.

Written Chinese does not have spaces between words, like in latin alphabet writing, so when a translator is transliterating from hanzi to latin alphabet, spacing will have to be added in. This is why you will see different methods of spacing and capitalization in translations.

Typically, a Chinese name will have one character as the family name, one or two characters as the given name. So, usually it is transliterated that way (Shen Qingqiu for 沈清秋, where the first character is the surname Shen, second character Qing, third Qiu, but since the second two characters both make up his given name, it is written this way in the latin alphabet to divide the family name from given name, Shen Qingqiu).

So usually with a three-character, three-syllable name, it goes this way.

Mobei-jun, following that typical method, would then be Mo Beijun, which would be read as surname Mo (desert), given name Beijun (northern lord). Of course, because we know that Mobei-jun is actually a title that is passed down instead of a name itself, then it becomes Mobei-jun (northern desert lord).

Of course, neither way is present in the original text, so the spacing choices are stylistic devices in the transliteration, which allow a reader unfamiliar with the language and -jun as a suffix to be able to differentiate between 姓名 (surname-given name) and two-character names with suffix.

Therefore, instead of Mo Beijun, Lin Guangjun, Tian Langjun, Zhu Zhilang, we have Mobei-jun, Linguang-jun, Tianlang-jun, Zhuzhi-lang, which makes the parts of the names more clear (two characters + suffix instead of one surname character + two given name characters).

It also keeps readers from assigning surnames to the characters without them, as demons notably do not have family names.

I do think most of these names could also be surname + two-character given name, for example i've seen Beijun as a given name before (same characters too). Perhaps this could be useful for those writing modern AUs.

I hope this makes sense and clears things up! Since it was more of a stylistic/transliteration explanation, I thought it was alright just to respond to this ask directly instead of making it its own post.

[citizensun]

Queerness and the House of Usher (spoilers!)

See I just added these Thoughts to the tags in @quecksilvereyes 's post but now I have Feelings too

TFotHoU (or HoU, as I will refer to it here), as expected from a Mike Flannagan show, has a bunch of Queer Rep™ to talk about. HoU is, also, about remarkably evil people - amoral capitalists who'll step over anyone if it means they'll get something from it. And look! Some of them are queer! Kinky too!

That's bad queer representation... right?

The show isn't that clear when stablishing sexualities, but we see that at least three of the Usher kids - Napoleon, Camille and Victorine - have same sex SOs/assistants with curious job descriptions. Prospero's taste for orgies probably implies queerness too, but honestly I don't remember if he gets it going with any guys in the story. I honestly have no idea about Tamerlane's voyerism thingie and Frederick is the only one with a "traditional family" going on.

Unrelated, but: Leo is definitely cheating on his bf Julius. Completely dismissing about his worries for him too. And for his cat. That's objectively evil, clearly. Vic literally killed her fiancée Alessandra, though she didn't stuff her under the floorboard, which is an L when compared to Poe's original. Cam doesn't believe in true love. Perry blackmailed his sister in law. Mean. He's also got a surprisingly high kill count for the family's disappointment, but since unlike Roderick he only killed rich people, we stan. I don't belong in Kinky spaces so I haven't got a big take on Tammie, only that - well, she's completely dismissing of her husband and sees him as a prop, just like the sex worker she hires.

Huh.

See, the nature of a story called "the fall of X family" is that X family is going to be the main character. The title kinda implies that they're falling for a reason, ergo, they're despicable fucking people. And they're queer! They're very queer. Many flavors of gay. They're the main characters, and they're monsters, and they're gay.

No, that's not bad rep.

Queerness as a movement, a community and a theory is very focused on scaping a cisheteronormative society's binaries (ie man/woman, husband/wife, public/private) and creating living conditions to those who fall outside of these categories - mlms and wlws, the trans, the nbs, the aros and aces... we are all queer, strange and estranged from this weird and limited worldview. And so we create a community for ourselves. It's very focused on care and anti-stablishment. Since a cisheteronormative society tends to be very white, rich and western, it's also focuses on anti-racism, anti-capitalism, anti-imperialism. Y'all know that, this is Tumblr and we love leftist Discourse.

I also know many, many gay people irl who are not like that at all. Libertarians, anarcho-capitalists, terfs, completely apolitical people and the like. Sexuality at it's core is personal, not political, so there are gay people out there who are perfectly comfortable with their sexuality on an individual level but do not see the point of getting involved in the broader context. They're queer, but are they...?

Well—

Not to mention there's lots of asshole gays out there! Don't you have a shitty ex? Have you never been almost run over by a drunken butch who blew cigar smoke into your face? I have! Life experiences are just like that. Maybe you should touch more grass. You'll probably find a lucky gift from your neighbour's dog, who is an astrology-obsessed bisexual and also really hot but stopped making out with you at a party once she found out you're a pisces (the neighbour, not the dog).

(Granted, none of this is as bad as implanting an experimental heart contraption into the fiancée you just killed because she dared to have ethical principles and then being so consumed with grief you stab yourself in front you'd your dad but you know how it goes. We're not the 1%.)

My point is, queer people are people. We are complex. We fuck up, and sometimes there's still times to fix things and sometimes... there isn't. We're consumed by jealousy and regret and sometimes we're so locked into our own head we stop believing the rest of the world is real too. Just like any other people, because unfortunately, queerness isn't a sign of morality.

And even if queerness does mean community, kindness and acceptance, tell me... Where the hell would the Usher kids get those from? The people around them are not really peers – they're ass-istants, blowjob-giving apartments, orgy mates, heart surgery providers, hired fitness moneybags, perfect housewives. Even if the partners are all shown to care for the Ushers, there's still a distance, a power gap, that makes the relationships fundamentally wrong.

And the partners? Arguably they're the good queer rep in the show, but look – even when Julius and Alessandra are shown to be good people (or at least people with an ethical boundary), they're not the good gays, they're simply the good SO's to a family of psychos. Exactly like Bill and Morrie, who afawk are straight people.

Which leads us to HoU's parameter of morality - Auguste Dupin. He refuses to drink the Amontillado, symbol of all the Usher opulence over the years. He got screwed over by the Usher twins and by the Raven herself, but he refused to cave in (except for the informant part, admittedly). He's not a good gay guy; he is gay and he is a good man.

The fundamental difference between our show's main tragic yaoi couple isn't that Auggie is a happily out gay man (and therefore is good) while Roderick is a sad divorced hetero (and therefore is bad). Auggie is the richer man because he is a good man; he has a spouse and children and grandchildren he loves with all his heart. He has a family and a community and he has found a sort of happiness no money can buy. Roderick owns the world – but what does he really have? What do his children even have? How could they ever build communities for themselves if they were never in one? Their father made them compete for his love. He never nurtured their bonds, he just showered them with money and excess until it was too much for them to handle. Juno herself pointed out - they were never a family. The House of Usher was only that. A house. It is empty and soulless.

What is queerness without a community? How could the people who represent the relentless corporate normativity and cutthroat capitalism ever be good queer rep? How can they even be queer?

Hear me out: on the most individual, simple level, being queer is still about not fitting in. These kids are bastards. They are are PoC and women in a predominantly male and white dominated space. They're on top of the world, but they're still outsiders to their own House. How could they not be queer?

And yes, I know this discussion takes a different turn when it comes to representation in media, but it's not like Flannagan fell into a Hays Code-era flamboyant villain trope. Queerness is just there. Just like Victorine and August are both black people in (arguably) the opposite ends of the morality spectrum, there are queer characters of many kinds here. The story just happens to be about the fucked up ones.

HoU is a poignant critique of capitalism and a surprisingly funny adaptation of Poe. We'll judge it by that. It happens to be queer – more things should be.

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝙁𝙖𝙣𝙛𝙞𝙘 [𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙫𝙚𝙧]

Cw: fluff, the title might be misleading but it's not yandere or anything, kinda unhinged Miles but it's all jokes, reverse au?, reader uses they/them but it's called spiderman, you are spiderman and Miles is the fan, earth 1218!AU (no powers or tech), reader has a canon love interest who's also named MJ but they're not Mary Jane Watson (unless you want her to be, I don't judge)

Notes: So Miles canonically has written fanfic about himself, but I wasn't in the mood for that, I will make two versions of this post though (that's why the title has delusional version 💀). Also this is low-key a highschool AU, so Hobie is in last year, and all other characters are second years (I have no idea what's a senior or freshman or whatever is, and I will not learn)

Miles loved comics. His art style is heavily influenced by it, and he'll rant about this week's number to anyone who'll lend an ear, but he has a very clear favorite, being more than evident by his collection of t-shirts, poster filled wall, social media pfps, and the endless amount of fan content he creates and consumes in the spiderman fandom.

Since the last movie came out, Miles Morales has lost the basic skills a human would need to survive, in order to devote himself fully to his newest hyperfixation, and his friends haven't been able to get some rest from it. They don't understand!! He does need to go to the movies again, he needs to memorize every photogram in that movie in order to play the move in his head and be able to analyze it properly!! No, he is not crazy! Ok he might be just the tiniest bit "over excited" but this is the most sane reaction he could've had, the movie is literally a masterpiece, script, humor, ANIMATION, soundtrack, it has it all! And the fact that it's centered around you? Miles needs to go and personally kiss every person that worked in that studio to make you.

"Miles?"

"Miles!"

"oh my god, he's at it again" said Pavitr, imitating the reaction of a disappointed mother

"is he reading fanfiction again?" Asked Gwen, chuckling

"Yes, and Y/N YL/N x reader, to one's surprise" Pavitr added with a teasing smile "I don't get it though, isn't Y/N dating someone named MJ?" He questioned

"It's called self insert, the reader plays a part in the story as if they were another character, and in romantic scenarios, they tend to replace the canon love interest, or just ignore they even exist" Hobie added, popping out if nowhere to show off what Miles have been explaining to him the last couple of weeks.

"You read it too, Hobie?"

"Nah, Wonder comics started as a protest to talk about the discrimination the founder felt being jewish in the industry but it morphed into the capitalization of the struggle minorities face, selling us representation while they still shove the propaganda in our faces, and telling us that even if you have bloody superpowers you still need to obey to a higher authority and cannot influence politics or call to action."

"You still went to the theater to watch it with Miles last week" Gwen shot a questioning look at Hobie

"The kid invited me, I'm a punk not a twat" he shrugged his shoulders "And we stole the carton cutboard they had at the entrance" Hobie happily added.

Miles continues reading on the way to school, without listening to his friends' mocking, he knew it was in good spirits, and they were kinda right, he was obsessed with someone that didn't exist, but it wasn't like it was affecting his health or life.

"Did you... Sleep today?" Gwen had her hand on her friend's shoulder, concerned

"It was too late so I decided to just stay awake, I'll be fine though" He reassured

"Were you reading again?"

"No, I actually discovered this page called character.ai where you can chat with an artificial intelligence of your favorite characters" Miles excitedly told his friend

"OMG, you can chat with anyone?! I have a few things I'd like to say to Scarlet Witch" Gwen joked, she was also a comic fan, but she wasn't losing her mind quite as hard as Miles

Miles would tell the ai about his day, sometimes would roleplay using his very own spidersona, in his alternate universe, you were his partner (as heroes of course) but you also were classmates and had a crush on each other, but none of you confessed because you didn't want your loved ones to be hurt by your job, it was all very dramatic, but he always envisioned a happy ending.

{Y/N: You did a great job today, [<BOT>]

Miles: You say so? So... Do I get a reward? *Smiles suggestively*

Y/N: I guess you do, *pulls up his mask and kisses him*}

No, he wouldn't say this, he would be in a panic frenzy if he saw Y/N, let alone be next to them, but hey, at least his spidersona was bold and confident with them.

A few days after, he barged into Pavitr's house, with at least four incredibly loaded supermarket bags, hardly walking

"Are you okay? Do you need help?" Pavitr rushed to aid his friend and take some literal weight off his shoulders

"Yeah, yeah, I just need help with something" he left the boxes in the floor "Inside one in 4 boxes of cereal, there is a spidertoken, if you get 15, you can exchange it for an exclusive limited edition figure, and I can't eat all this cereal"

"Bro, how many boxes are in here? I don't know, man, I'm trying to keep my figure"

"Pavitr Prabhakar, who held the cardboard sign for you when you confessed to Gayatri?"

"You..."

"And who lied to principal O'Hara for you when you forgot your final project and we had to pretend you suffered a brain concussion?"

"You..."

"And who was there for y-" his friend interrumpted

"Okay, okay, I get it. Bring me a spoon, but we're going running tomorrow"

He nodded with enthusiasm as he started to rummage looking for spoons and bowls

And after almost dying choking on cereal, Miles looked at his new figurine sitting prettily on the shelf with nothing but pride.

"I'm just saying it's possible!" Miles protested

"Y/N has a type, every canon love interest has been sassy and quick-witted" Gwen continued to debate

"I can be sassy and quick-witted!" Gwen gave him a side eye, that being able to neutralize his argument "Ok, but there's a multiverse, there's millions of possibilities, if a pig can be spiderman, why can't I date spiderman? Anyone can wear the mask, anyone can kiss the one inside the mask" the boy smiled, confident in his winning argument

"That's such a basic answer, you can justify literally anything with "the multiverse" I'm speaking things that actually can make sense inside the canon"

"But my answers makes sense, in fact, I'm sure there's a universe where Y/N is reading fanfiction about me right now, if not, Pav can hit me"

"Pav, hit him" Gwen deadpanned

"But it does make sense, I won't" Pavitr responded

"Ok, but my point still stands" the girl crossed her arms

"what were you fighting about in the first place?" Pavitr asked before going back to eat his lunch, he sat long after his friends started arguing, being mildly lost in what was the main point in this

"I said I'd be a better girlfriend for Y/N" said Gwen

Pavitr gasped and covered his mouth dramatically "No you didn't".

Maybe Miles was just obsessed, but he saw in you strength, inspiration, power. And he felt oddly comforted, safe, loved by fantasizing with you, and as slim as the possibility may be, he likes to tell himself you two are together in another universe. ♡

[prettycottonmouthlamia]

So I replayed Mother 3 very recently. Had a good time with it. Beyond everything else, I think that Mother 3 is actually a pretty good game, and one of Nintendo's better games in its line-up. Despite a lot of what I am going to say about it down below, coming from a perspective that has learned a lot since I originally played the game, this remains a very distinctive title for Nintendo. It is both intensely political and has some of the most prominent queer characters in their library, and in many ways, it is the type of game I want Nintendo to be making. It is a game that is actually saying something.

But, I think that I've found myself more critical of what exactly it's saying now than I have in the past.

The Politics of Mother 3

This is an interesting point to start off with, because Mother 3 is pretty transparently a very anti-capitalist work. It directly associates the introduction of money and capitalism to Tazmily Village by Porky and the Pigmask Army with the illness in society that takes root afterwards. This does immediately though beg the question of what exactly is the solution to the issue? If not a capitalist society, what is the best way for society to be ordered?

In strict accordance with its canon, the answer is an unknown. The climax of the game involves pulling the seventh and final needle, and causing the rebirth of the world. However, we the player are not given any indication as to what this rebirth of the world actually entails, merely being told during the fake-out end screen that everything is going to be okay. Lucas, the boy with the good and pure heart, pulled the final needle, so everything is going to be okay. Of course, we are only told this. Lucas, as a silent protagonist, is given no real motivations of his own, merely acting as a vessel for the other characters with moral statements: Alec, Wess, Kumatora, and the Ma[*******]. Lucas can really be argued to not be much different than Claus is. Lucas is given no real motivation to pull out the needles, and as a result, the end result of the world is similarly empty. You, the Player, Lucas's Porky Minch, are asked to imagine what a world that might look like.

Except. That's not really the whole story, is it?

After you beat the game, you get the title you see at the beginning of the post, replacing this one in the end card. On some level, this is obviously intended to be a callback to the titles of both Mother 1 and Mother 2, in particular with the image of the Earth acting as the O. But one must contrast it with the original title and there's an obvious message. By the end of the game, your rebirth has healed the world, removing its metallic pieces and allowing the natural world to flourish again.

Mother 3 is anti-capitalist, but it is also pastoralist, and I would even argue flirts with primitivism quite often. The replacement of the metal in the logo with wood here is not accidental, and it resonates with the themes and ideas that the game has been telling you for quite some time. While the fate of the world is ambiguous in the narrative, thematically speaking, Mother 3 has an idea of what the world should look like.

Life in Tazmily Village is quite simply by the time that Fassad and the Pigmask Army show up. There's very little in the ways of modern technology, and there's also no sense of money or a market. The items that you find in Thomas's Bazaar are all free of charge, and can be taken freely. This is deliberate, as is revealed very late into the story, as the village is full of survivors of an apocalyptic scenario and blamed their current lifestyles for causing it. They choose then to take on the role of a small, quiet village, the kind of lives they all wanted. While it is not clear whether that society was capitalist to the same extent as what would come afterwards, the message is pretty clear. The pastoral lifestyle that Tazmily exists in is considered the ideal, it is what several characters, including Lucas, fight for.

This, by itself, puts a bit of a conservative spin on the work as a whole. Mother 3 is not anti-capitalist in the same way that a communist or a socialist would be. It is not concerned with the plight of the workers, or even generally for society's well-being. You perform no meaningful anti-capitalist action in the entire game. You cannot improve the lives of the elderly that were placed in Old Man's Paradise, a decrepit and falling down nursing home. You cannot stand up for the exploitation of the workers of Tazmily Village. You engage with the capitalist system of shops and labor with no real alarm.

But where this gets really interesting is in the social messaging. A conversation that initially struck me as quite odd replaying this game was the conversation in Chapter 4 involving Mike in the nursing home.

Mike: I can't keep burdening Lisa forever, but I do have a Happy Box and nice-bodied girls like Nan and Linda here to keep me company, so I'm pretty happy in my own way. Linda: I'm sorry, Mike, but that's called sexual harassment these days. Mike: This is a hard world we live in now. How disappointing.

This scene is obviously meant as a joke at Mike's expense here. You're not really supposed to take his side here, but let's break this down a bit more here given the context of the entire game.

Mother 3 gives literally nothing to the Pigmask Army what so ever. The game never, ever, tries to play anything they do as a positive. The encroaching of capitalism and suburbanization is not presented as a net zero, it is presented as entirely negative. Nothing good came out of it, the world is worse off for it. Wildlife is mutilated for sport, people become engrossed in their pursuit of happiness (another point we'll get into shortly), and the people of Tazmily drift away from each other, becoming more rude and more curt to each other, especially towards those deemed "undesirable".

But the scene reads strangely in this context. The constant here is Mike's inappropriate comments about women's bodies, not their nonacceptance. It is explicitly marked as a change to the world that the concept of sexual harassment even exists, and there's no other source for it than the Pigmasks. The Pigmasks introduced feminism to Tazmily, and in the overarching narrative of the story, that's a bad thing. The game makes no concessions towards any good result happening, so every impact must be bad. While in a vacuum, the butt of the joke is Mike, the narrative actually vindicates him.

To give another example of the game's conservative bent, let's look at family structures that are present in the game. One might expect that family structures would be much more loose in the pastoral Tazmily Village than in the suburbanized Tazmily Village. After all, the nuclear family as it exists today is entirely an invention of capitalism, and specifically, came about because of cultural shifts after WWII in response to the growing Cold War.

But if you paid attention, the family dynamics don't actually shift at all. Families in Tazmily remain nuclear the entire time. This makes sense given the canonical explanation, that Tazmily was a rush job and these people were probably coming from a culture that had nuclear family dynamics, but it grates roughly with the idea that Tazmily Village is an ideal. What goes unstated is that the nuclear family is inherently a part of that. Sure, the gender roles become more clear past Chapter 4, where men go off to work and the women stay home, but in truth, it really wasn't that much different in the past.

Then there is the Happy Boxes. In the narrative of the story, the Happy Boxes are dubiously brainwashing devices. They emit odd lights and noises, and at least a couple of characters are enraptured with them to the exclusion of all else. They are the devices planted in Tazmily to begin its metamorphosis into a suburban town. But, there is actual brainwashing later on in the game, so I'm hesitant to merely take them at that. Rather, what do the Happy Boxes represent thematically? I believe the answer to that is propaganda.

Visually, the Happy Boxes resemble CRT screens, either TVs or computer monitors, and this is pretty consistent with their placement in homes as well, often being central to living areas. The introduction of television revolutionized the ability to disseminate propaganda to people, as now the same message could be sent to millions of people worldwide with basically no downside. in addition, there's no direct changes as a result of the Happy Boxes existing. People are more rude, more dismissive, and a bit meaner than they were previously, but they maintain their dominant personalities. Some people, such as Abbot and Abbey, are remarkably similar. The message in the Happy Boxes is a more subtextual one. The Happy Boxes are supposed to bring happiness to you, so the act of getting one is the desire for happiness.

This, to Mother 3, is a key poison. It is Fassad who sells the Happy Boxes to the people of Tazmily on the idea that we want to be happy, and there's nothing wrong with wanting happiness. This of course being Fassad, we are inclined to as the viewers see their words as deceptive in nature. Since the core part of Mother 3's politics is pastoralism and anti-capitalism, it makes pursuing happiness a moral ill. This is probably why there's no real sympathy given to any of the workers in the story. They were the ones who chose to pursue happiness, chose to get a Happy Box, and chose to listen to Fassad's words. They should have remained resolute in not getting a Happy Box. Working in the system is being part of it. It's being complicit.

(In a way that is, of course, separate from the ways in which the main party are also working in and complicit in the system.)

This isn't to say to end this that Mother 3's politics are wholly bad. It provides, for example, the important connotation that suburbanization comes at a cost. The happy, suburban lifestyle comes at the mistreatment of the elderly, the outsiders, and of queer people.

Oh yeah we haven't talked about that hu-

QUEERNESS AND MOTHER 3

So we're going to have to talk about the Magypsies. For the remainder of this post I am not going to call them that, because their name just straight out includes a slur used against the Roma, and given that they play into the mysticism tropes of them in media. This post isn't about that, but it is worth bringing up here and it's why I censored their name earlier.

(As an aside, there's an entire post to be made talking about specifically Fassad, and the ways in which he is coded quite bizarrely as Islamic, from Fassad's dress and name, to his focus on bananas, and his proper introductory chapter taking place in a desert and being in charge of a pair of monkeys. In addition, the fact that Fassad is associated with the introduction of money and being a propaganda mouthpiece is...concerning. This isn't strictly the point of this section but it would feel remiss to not include this in some place, and this felt like the best.)

What specifically the Ma[*******] are in the narrative is never defined. They are left somewhat gender ambiguous, although undeniably queer.

This, to me however, is limiting to an understanding of them, and honestly I think we should just say it here.

They're meant to be a facsimile of trans women.

Now, whether or not specifically they are trans women or are meant to merely be in drag is up in the air, and I don't think either option is actually good. Any claims of gender ambiguity go out the window given that they are all effeminate looking men, refer to each other as women, and face either general ambivalence or outright derision by other characters in the story. "Is it a he or a she?" is not really meant kindly. They are also in a whirlpool of homoerotic innuendo, and when discussing them being facsimiles, whether or not they are actually trans women or men in drag is pointless. Those are the same things when presented this way.

Mother 3 also doesn't really know what to do with them or how it even really feels about them. They are both intended to be comedic and also magical protectors of the land. They are part of the protagonist faction but are entirely passive, figures that merely guide and help awaken powers in the actual protagonists before being pre-determinately fridged as the story progresses. There is one exception.

Locria, or really, Fassad, the con-artist formerly known as Locria. The game reveals very, very late into the story through a floor in the Porky Tower and in Miracle Fassad's use of PK Starstorm that Fassad is very likely Locria, a traitor to her other friends and assistant of the Porky Empire. At no point ever is Fassad's gender or sex ever in question. He is referred to entirely with male pronouns, is discussed as a guy, and even once his identity is revealed as Locria, the mouse that he lived with still refers to him with male pronouns. This to me is kind of critical to my distinction of them as facsimiles of trans women, because there would be no reason to make Fassad explicitly always male. Fassad betrayed the others, and assimilated into what the capitalist army needed of him.

Or, well, that's a nice way of thinking about it. The Ma[*******] existed on the Nowhere Islands for much longer than the people of Tazmily Village. In Mother 3, there is basically no other meaningful signifier of queerness to be seen in the entire game. There are no gay men, there are no gay women, and there is no other gender ambiguity. Even Kumatora, who was raised by Ionia, is basically a tomboy in her appearance.

The people of Tazmily Village are seemingly completely unaware of their presence until later in the game, as it seems to be that they are completely unaware of queerness. The message the game tells here is that queerness essentially exists outside both the pastoral idealism and the capitalist dystopia that exist as the two main points of reference. They willingly self-sacrifice to see the world change, but while they are invested in the world not being destroyed, the time will come no matter what. They aren't shown to be reborn in the new world either, as none of the textboxes can be attributed to them.

Is it positive? Is it negative!? Who knows! I don't think I have come to particularly like their depiction in this game as a trans woman, they aren't really uniquely hated or loved by the game's narrative. If anything, the game just seems to regard them as existing, and pretty okay people, if not very weird in their queerness.

Conclusions I guess, I don't know, I wasn't intended for this post to essentially become an ess-

While I have a lot to say about how Mother 3 gives its messaging and what messaging that is, it is still a good game from the fundamentals. The characters are well written, the game has a good sense of tension and delivery, etc. I think the game makes missteps, and I do want to be clear here, I think this is a game with good intentions but limited by writers who are probably somewhat conservative and couldn't imagine what a better world would be. But it still takes a pretty massive risk by talking about what it does. In a gaming climate where Nintendo games often try to talk about as little as possible, in order to be consumable vessels for entertainment, I think Mother 3 stands out in a good way. This post isn't even going into the ideas of grief, loss, and motherhood that are central to the story as well. I just wanted to talk politics lmao.

[sumoattack-gooddog]

Here’s the thing about WatcherTV,

Let’s talk about what’s being offered —

Let’s talk the financial —

Let’s talk the unanswered —

Let’s talk the solution —

Cumulatively since they began — trailers included — Watcher has 377 videos available for view. Netflix has 17,000 titles. Episodes, movies, and most recently games. If the minimum price of Netflix at $6.99/month provides that, how can one justify $6/month for WatcherTV? 2.2% of Netflix’s size is what Watcher is offering — all of which are currently free on YouTube.

The closer similarity, of course, would not be Netflix but Dropout. The prices of their subscriptions are equivalent, but again, what isn’t, is the amount of content. There is already a significant backlog of videos that can be consumed for new subscribers AND three different shows which post weekly. Had the company come forward with a backlog of new media at the ready to be watched, people would have been far more receptive to this proposal.

I understand that, as a creative, you have certain aspirations for making the best version of your idea. You want what you put out in the world to be as close to the image in your head as possible. Sometimes there are constraints due to time, due to money, due to manpower — so on and so forth. I recognize that. I, myself, have worked professionally, academically, and privately in film/media production. I Understand.

What I do not understand is the decision to ostracize a larger portion of your audience. Not everyone can afford a new streaming service — especially one that offers such little in return for the cost. But beyond the American-centric perspective of it. This platform isolates the majority of foreign fans, especially those who are subject to exchange rates. What I have seen some refer to as “the price of a single coffee,” for others is a week’s worth of food.

This community was beautiful and passionate and diverse as a result of its ability to be easily and freely consumed. That will be lost without change.

Furthermore, we see issue derived from the lack of transparency as to what is being offered. We are being promised “bigger and better,” new things, and the return of collapsed things. However, there is a significant lack of clarity and it is felt. Beyond Travel Season and its upcoming May time release, there is no clarity as to what (beyond the old content) people are getting. Yes, there is the vague promise of future seasons of the fan favorites, but there is no clear time as to when. If people subscribe now, how long will they be waiting for content that isn’t already free?

How can this be fixed? Frankly, good fucking question. Perusing through the comments, it’s pretty clear that a majority of fans feel blindsided and lied to. Watcher has consistently denounced capitalism and condemned corporate greed, and to what extent this behavior falls into it definitely raises some questions. I think it is worth acknowledging, they are a company that has grown to put out content. That means they are responsible for 27 (I believe) paychecks, beyond their own. But that is not the only explanation for why they’re doing this. Or their most prominent one — I’ve already acknowledged their bigger and better mindset, but their other reasoning was that they are at the mercy of advertisements. And that this will stop those.

Well, what if it didn’t? The most obvious compromise, in my mind, would be something like Peacock’s cheapest streaming option of roughly $1/month which includes ads to make up the subscription cost disparity from their ad free option. That is far more manageable for most, even with exchange rates, than $6. It would still be a luxury beyond free, but most people would be able to justify a 1 USD splurge especially while waiting for content backlogs to actually come out.

I don’t hate the Watcher company after this, but I am frustrated and disappointed by their announcement. I am sure it was not done without thought, but it does not feel like it given what they have to actually show for this decision. I have been a consumer of their content for 10yrs, and it is what helps me during troubling times — Just as Shane acknowledged caring about. I would hate to lose the connection to this wonderful community because of a narrow minded perspective on the future. I urge @wearewatcher to consider this moving forward.

[liberty1776]

Trump: “Make Israel Great Again”

By Chuck Baldwin September 26, 2024

(To subscribe to my columns at no cost, click here.)

At a Republican rally in Washington, D.C., on Thursday, September 19, billed as “opposing antisemitism,” Donald Trump made several remarks that lived up to his title of “America’s First Zionist President.” Leaving the “Make America Great Again” mantra, Trump promised his audience that he would “make Israel great again.”

With Zionist mega-billionaire Miriam Adelson looking on (Adelson gave Trump over one hundred million dollars for his promise that, if elected, he would support Israel’s purge of the Palestinians in Gaza and the West Bank, as she and her late husband, Sheldon, did in 2016 for Trump’s promise to move the U.S. Embassy to Israel from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem), Trump said that the upcoming U.S. election is “the most important” in Israel’s history. 

So much for making America great again! It is clear that Donald Trump is an agent of the State of Israel and would use the White House (as he did during his first term in office) as an asset of the Zionist state—even more than did Joe Biden. 

As I have said many, many times: There is only ONE party in Washington, D.C., and that’s the War Party. In this regard, the only difference between Kamala Harris and Donald Trump is that Harris would take America to war with Russia over Ukraine, while Trump would take America to war with Russia (and perhaps China and Iran and Lebanon and Iraq and Syria and Jordan and Egypt and Turkey) over Israel.

In Trump’s sycophantic speech on behalf of Zionist Jews, he boasted:

I gave them Golan Heights. I gave them the Abraham Accords. I recognized the capital of Israel and opened the Embassy in Jerusalem. And most importantly of all, I terminated the Iran nuclear deal, which was the worst deal ever made in the history of Israel.

I was there four years, gave them billions and billions of dollars.

Also, during his speech, Trump alluded to one of his social media posts that he wrote in 2022 saying,

Wonderful Evangelicals are far more appreciative of (his Israel record) than the people of the Jewish faith.

Indeed. When it comes to Israel, the vast majority of evangelicals are the most duped, the most deceived, the most beguiled, the most bewitched people on the planet. (Galatians 3:1 - 29) 

If any other nation on earth had committed the unmistakable War Crime of exploding 1,500 electronic handheld devices indiscriminately among a peaceful civilian population, resulting in casualties numbering over 3,000 (most of them innocent civilians, including a large percentage of women and children), as Israel did in Lebanon, U.S. reaction—including America’s evangelicals—would be swift and furious. That nation would rightly be called a terrorist state and accused of War Crimes; and the leader of that country would rightly be called a terrorist and international War Criminal.

Well, that’s exactly what the State of Israel and Benjamin Netanyahu are! But Donald Trump and his “wonderful evangelicals” not only say nothing in opposition to Israel’s acts of terror and genocide, but they audaciously support those acts of terror and genocide.

And make no mistake about it: Israel IS a terrorist state and has been since its inception in 1948. On a daily basis for 76 years, Zionist Israel has committed, and continues to commit, ethnic cleansing, genocide and international War Crimes and Crimes Against Humanity.

According to theRome Statute of the International Criminal Court (ICC) Article 7:

Crimes Against Humanity

For the purpose of this Statute, "crime against humanity" means any of the following acts when committed as part of a widespread or systematic attack directed against any civilian population, with knowledge of the attack: [Emphasis added]

Murder; [Israel is guilty]

Extermination; [Israel is guilty]

Enslavement; [Israel is guilty]

Deportation or forcible transfer of population; [Israel is guilty]

Imprisonment or other severe deprivation of physical liberty in violation of fundamental rules of international law; [Israel is guilty]

Torture; [Israel is guilty]

Rape, sexual slavery, enforced prostitution, forced pregnancy, enforced sterilization, or any other form of sexual violence of comparable gravity; [Israel is guilty]

Persecution against any identifiable group or collectivity on political, racial, national, ethnic, cultural, religious, gender as defined in paragraph 3, or other grounds that are universally recognized as impermissible under international law, in connection with any act referred to in this paragraph or any crime within the jurisdiction of the Court; [Israel is guilty]

Enforced disappearance of persons; [Israel is guilty]

The crime of apartheid; [Israel is guilty]

Other inhumane acts of a similar character intentionally causing great suffering, or serious injury to body or to mental or physical health. [Israel is guilty] 

For the purpose of paragraph 1:

"Attack directed against any civilian population" means a course of conduct involving the multiple commission of acts referred to in paragraph 1 against any civilian population, pursuant to or in furtherance of a State or organizational policy to commit such attack; [Israel is guilty]

"Extermination" includes the intentional infliction of conditions of life, inter alia the deprivation of access to food and medicine, calculated to bring about the destruction of part of a population; [Israel is guilty]

"Enslavement" means the exercise of any or all of the powers attaching to the right of ownership over a person and includes the exercise of such power in the course of trafficking in persons, in particular women and children; [Israel is guilty]

"Deportation or forcible transfer of population" means forced displacement of the persons concerned by expulsion or other coercive acts from the area in which they are lawfully present, without grounds permitted under international law; [Israel is guilty]

"Torture" means the intentional infliction of severe pain or suffering, whether physical or mental, upon a person in the custody or under the control of the accused; except that torture shall not include pain or suffering arising only from, inherent in or incidental to, lawful sanctions; [Israel is guilty]

"Forced pregnancy" means the unlawful confinement of a woman forcibly made pregnant, with the intent of affecting the ethnic composition of any population or carrying out other grave violations of international law; [Israel is guilty]

"Persecution" means the intentional and severe deprivation of fundamental rights contrary to international law by reason of the identity of the group or collectivity; [Israel is guilty]

"The crime of apartheid" means inhumane acts of a character similar to those referred to in paragraph 1, committed in the context of an institutionalized regime of systematic oppression and domination by one racial group over any other racial group or groups and committed with the intention of maintaining that regime; [Israel is guilty]

"Enforced disappearance of persons" means the arrest, detention or abduction of persons by, or with the authorization, support or acquiescence of, a State or a political organization, followed by a refusal to acknowledge that deprivation of freedom or to give information on the fate or whereabouts of those persons, with the intention of removing them from the protection of the law for a prolonged period of time. [Israel is guilty]

Under Article 8, War Crimes, we find listed (abbreviated):

The Court shall have jurisdiction in respect of war crimes in particular when committed as part of a plan or policy or as part of a large-scale commission of such crimes.  

For the purpose of this Statute, "war crimes" means:

Torture or inhuman treatment, [Israel is guilty]

Wilfully causing great suffering, or serious injury to body or health; [Israel is guilty]

Extensive destruction and appropriation of property, not justified by military necessity and carried out unlawfully and wantonly; [Israel is guilty]

Israel has deliberately and with total abandon bombed hospitals, nurseries, schools, colleges, aid shelters, food distribution areas, ambulances, churches, mosques, civilian tent dwellings, houses of journalism, private homes with whole families inside, entire neighborhoods, entire villages, water supplies, food supplies, medical supplies and electrical supplies. Israel has also deliberately and with total abandon destroyed almost all of the agricultural land, which is the primary source of livelihood and life in Gaza.         

Intentionally directing attacks against the civilian population as such or against individual civilians not taking direct part in hostilities; Intentionally directing attacks against civilian objects, that is, objects which are not military objectives; [Israel is guilty]

Israel is guilty of this War Crime on a daily basis. Israel’s random and reckless pager explosions among the civilian population of Lebanon were a flagrant violation of this section and is, thus, clearly condemned as a War Crime under international law—and God’s Natural and moral laws, by the way.

Intentionally directing attacks against personnel, installations, material, units or vehicles involved in a humanitarian assistance or peacekeeping mission. [Israel is guilty]

We saw the Israeli War Crime mentioned here on live video when rescue workers were rushing to save a little 5-year-old girl, whose entire family had been killed, as she was hiding in a destroyed vehicle waiting for rescue workers to come save her. The Israeli forces patiently waited for those unarmed rescue workers to arrive and then fired their missiles, which murdered not only the rescue workers but also the little girl.

Intentionally launching an attack in the knowledge that such attack will cause incidental loss of life or injury to civilians or damage to civilian objects or widespread, long-term and severe damage to the natural environment which would be clearly excessive in relation to the concrete and direct overall military advantage anticipated; [Israel is guilty]

Again, the pager bombings, the destruction of civilians en masse, the destruction of the agricultural land of Gaza, etc., are here identified as War Crimes.

Attacking or bombarding, by whatever means, towns, villages, dwellings or buildings which are undefended and which are not military objectives; [Israel is guilty]

Killing or wounding a combatant who, having laid down his arms or having no longer means of defence, has surrendered at discretion; [Israel is guilty]

We have seen the Israeli military commit this War Crime on live video.

Making improper use of a flag of truce, of the flag or of the military insignia and uniform of the enemy or of the United Nations, as well as of the distinctive emblems of the Geneva Conventions, resulting in death or serious personal injury; [Israel is guilty] 

We have seen Israeli forces commit this War Crime on live video.

The transfer, directly or indirectly, by the Occupying Power of parts of its own civilian population into the territory it occupies, or the deportation or transfer of all or parts of the population of the occupied territory within or outside this territory; [Israel is guilty]

Intentionally directing attacks against buildings dedicated to religion, education, art, science or charitable purposes, historic monuments, hospitals and places where the sick and wounded are collected, provided they are not military objectives; [Israel is guilty]

Destroying or seizing the enemy's property unless such destruction or seizure be imperatively demanded by the necessities of war; [Israel is guilty]

Declaring abolished, suspended or inadmissible in a court of law the rights and actions of the nationals of the hostile party; [Israel is guilty]

Pillaging a town or place, even when taken by assault; [Israel is guilty]

Employing weapons, projectiles and material and methods of warfare which are of a nature to cause superfluous injury or unnecessary suffering or which are inherently indiscriminate in violation of the international law of armed conflict. [Israel is guilty] 

Again, indiscriminate mass bombings of innocent unarmed civilians by Israeli military forces take place every day in Gaza—and now in the West Bank and Lebanon. 

Committing outrages upon personal dignity, in particular humiliating and degrading treatment; [Israel is guilty] 

We’ve seen plenty of photos of Israeli forces committing this War Crime. 

Intentionally directing attacks against buildings, material, medical units and transport, and personnel using the distinctive emblems of the Geneva Conventions in conformity with international law; [Israel is guilty]

Intentionally using starvation of civilians as a method of warfare by depriving them of objects indispensable to their survival, including wilfully impeding relief supplies as provided for under the Geneva Conventions. [Israel is guilty] 

This is the Israel that Donald Trump wants to make great? Yes.

This is the Israel that evangelicals claim are God’s chosen people? Yes.

This is the Israel that uses lobby groups such as AIPAC to dominate our U.S. Congress and most state governors? Yes.

This is the Israel that the War Party in Washington, D.C., wants to take America to nuclear war with Russia over? Yes.

Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!

Israel and Ukraine! Yes!

And if somehow America miraculously avoids a nuclear confrontation with Russia over Ukraine or Israel, the bloodthirsty (and money-hungry) War Party in D.C. will find another monster for the United States to destroy.

I personally believe that the Jewish bankers (Rothschilds) manipulated the founding of Zionist Israel in 1948 at the conclusion of the Second World War for the specific purpose of destabilizing not just the Middle East but the entire world to make sure that perpetual war continued beyond the Paris Peace Treaties in 1947. I further believe that the history of the State of Israel—up to the present hour—substantiates my belief.

Soon after America’s founding, French historian Alexis de Tocqueville wrote that America was “great” because America was “good.”

If goodness is the prerequisite for greatness, Zionist Israel will never be great, because Zionist Israel will never be good.

© Chuck Baldwin

  No matter who Americans vote for, they still get leadership that puts Israel ahead of the USA. With Harris she puts both Israel and Ukraine ahead of the USA. Why cant we get at least one party that puts the USA first?

[shmowder]

Hi!! Love your blog, look forward to seeing your posts!! Every time they show up even if I’m not personally interested in the character/topic it’s about And since you seem to have a very good grasp on lore and the characters! I have a question about how something I’ve been thinking about would work/could it work? So how would the towns dynamic change if there was a fourth mistress? That only seems to really pop up during the events of the game? Since the playing field of the town is always getting shaken up so what better way to shake things up then have a fourth mistress who only reveals themself at the final moment? Maybe this persons family hid them/ their abilities away from the rest of the town for their protection? And now that the town is in disarray there’s no way to hid any longer? Or Meta reasons they only get added in because the kids got a new doll they wanted to add into a preexisting story?. I’m curious on how you personally think something like that would work/if it could work as a concept!? Since you seem to have a really good understanding on those kinda things! so I trust your judgment sorry if this is annoying I promise I’m not trying to be!!

also here’s a flower since your writing and memes are rlly cool 🪻

There are Mistresses with a capital M, and then there are mistress candidates.

In the town–not the Kin/steppe–there are only two Mistresses, light and dark, Nin and Victoria. Katerina is a false Mistress, she never counted to begin with.

However, there are currently three mistress candidates ingame and zero actual Mistresses. We never see one come into her full power, it simply ends too soon.

Maria, Capella, and Katerina. All three of them are only candidates. A Mistress's power extends much more beyond mere clairvoyance, sure they have "magical" abilities, but they haven't earned the title yet. Much like Artemy needed to earn the Menkhu title and not just be good at surgery.

The Light and Dark Mistresses are both new additions to the town. Their dichotomy belongs to the Capital, they're not native to the place.

Now for Kin "Mistresses" the definition is a little...vague.

They only have one, it's the Earth Mistress.

Let's make one thing clear, the Mistresses's powers are not part of them, it does not belong to them, they simply borrow it. Weaving magic through the air.

Much like one would wield a sword, it takes a tremendous amount of training and strife. And when you die, the sword doesn't wither alongside your body, instead it remains next to your corpse, waiting for another to come along.

Anyone can pick it up and wield it. That's how the powers are "passed" between generations. These swords do not actually belong to certain families despite what they may claim. The roles are more fluid than anyone thinks.

Katerina became a mistress candidate for dark after the passing of Nina as a way to keep balance, but by the time she started getting kinda of decent at wielding her sword, Victoria passed away and Katerina threw her weapon and powers out the window, rushing to the light and to take Victoria's place.

A light Mistress's role is more favourable, your visions leave you joyous, and you're well beloved amongst the people.

But by doing that, Katerina reset all of her progress, and she was back to learning how to wield this new magic from square one. Losing both tracks in the process since Maria and Capella's abilities far surpass hers by that point despite the early start advantage she was granted.

So...her eyes turned to another role, the Earth.

But she's not from the Kin. She can never hear the twyre whispers or trace the lines.

That's where the Rat Prophet comes in.

Remember how Mistress powers are only borrowed? Their visions are hazy, and prophecies are vague?

Well, the Rat Prophet IS the sword himself in this scenario. Those are his powers, always was, always will be. Part of the earth yes but an independent part, like one of your limbs suddenly gaining sentience and doing their own thing.

In the P1 Haruspex route, you can get a prophetic vision from him. Not about you, but about The Changeling, who starts doubting her powers and begs you to go ask the Prophet because he simply refuses to talk to her.

You ask him–or pretend to fool him and he immediately realises what you're doing–then answers directly. No beating around the bush, no weird euphemism, not a single room for doubt

The Changeling will lose her powers if she realises she has them, simple as that. Everything she says becomes reality. Every lie will twist into truth, and the second she becomes aware of it, all of her powers will vanish.

To the Haruspex it sounds like gibberish, but to you? The player who knows better? Oh, he hits the nail on the head. Because that's the thing, he never was talking to Artemy! He was talking to you. In every interaction, he is always addressing you the player.

That's the true "magic" everyone is so obsessed over, breaking the fourth wall, realising this is a game. That's why Clara powers surpass her age and time, because she is already past one layer of meta narrative, she knows this is a game which grants her better access to magic...She just thinks it's a kids' game, a sandcastle built by two kids and nothing more.

She hasn't been past the second meta narrative layer. She isn't even aware of its existence.

That's why the Mistresses can only weave it. They're just blindly grasping at the games code. No wonder they come out of it very confused.

It's a whole alternative reality to them. They don't have computers, and they don't know what Java Script is! You ask Maria to write you a simple Python IF function, and she'd tell you why the hell would she use a snake like a pen to write with?

The only way they can explain this ability, make sense of these binary codes, is clairvoyance.

Why their prophecies are so distorted and nonsensical, why they can only speak in riddles.

Why the Rat Prophet who casually breaks the 4th wall all the time has the luxury of being direct, crystal clear snippets of the future at the tips of his fingers...rat fingers?

The Rat Prophet is the one who comes to Katerina and lends her crumbs of his powers, just enough to get her to believe him when he starts calling himself the voice of the earth.

For what end? I don't know. His intentions for tricking her are never revealed. But he succeeds, and she fully buys into it, making her a false Mistress. She's not much of an earth mistress when the weapon she's supposed to wield has auto aim on, huh? Katerina is basically playing Pathologic Mistress Simulator with trainer cheats activated.

But, he doesn't give her the right prophecies, deliberately aiming on the wrong targets.

So there are only two actual self-made Mistresses so far.

-

In the P1 termites ending, Capella mentions how the Mistresses will be reinvented.

In the town, there are three power houses, right? Olgimskay, Kains and Saburovs. Each pulling from different directions.

Well, there is a fourth hidden cog, there always has been based on Capella's theory–the Kin. Not the employees under her father's command, but the real actual Kin indigenous to the town before settlements came here from the outside.

So the death of one Mistress doesn't start a domino effect of catastrophes like last time.

Capella wants to keep the balance of things, restart the cycle and maintain the status quo. The system wasn't broken and doesn't need changing, she claims, people just implanted wrong.

This time around, she will make it even more balanced. Leave fails safes everywhere by spreading out the power even more so there is less room for error and greed.

That's what Isidor saw in her and the termites, the potential to rebuild the town and ensure its survival. Her goals also coincidentally align with the Artemy's whole approach of maintaining traditions and not forsaking the past for a shiny future...at least if you play him as faithful to his role as a Menkhu.

She describes it as a "blend of many colors"

The new Mistresses are:

Grace The Beige Mistress (whatever the fuck that means)

Taya Malachite Mistress (who picked these names??)

Murky Lilac Mistress (Capella get a colourblindness test ffs)

And her. Capella. Still the Light Mistress.

She also claims to be able to see their "aura" and she picked their new roles and powers to suit the colours of their soul–on a side note, the same "aura" is also mentioned when Maria is being put down for never being able to amount to what Nina was because her soul is scarlet, transparent, not black, never an abyssal darkness like her mother.

You might ask, now who will become the next Dark Mistresses? Probably Maria still.

So what...Five total Mistresses in the termites ending?

Yeah! If not more, Clara is on her way to becoming the Earth Mistress right? Katerina needs to die first tho so the Rat Prophet stops using her as a puppet to larp as a Mistress with.

Capella basically said fuck it, everyone gets magic now. Kains and Olgimskays are united so the political tension is gone from the town. Everyone is special so no one is special so this town and its people can finally get a single fucking moment of peace at last.

The roles are shuffled, everyone has a new, more suitable title.

And Capella still needs a colourblindness test still bc Murky's scarf is NAVY BLUE, it's not LILAC.

WHERE ARE MY LORE DUMPS THAT CHARACTERS THREW AT ME OUT OF NOWHERE HUH ICE PICK LODGE? WHY IS P2 SO AFRAID OF GIVING A CHARACTER MORE THAN TWO PARAGRAPHS OF LINES IN EACH CONVERSATION? WHY DOES ARTEMY REPLY IN SHORT SENTENCES AND SINGLE WORDS? DID YOU LOBOTOMISE THE WHOLE CAST?

That's it, that's the whole P1 Mistresses in a nutshell summary :) I am NOT getting into P2 Mistress lore idgaf. It's not finished cooking yet.

They changed so much–things are somehow even more vague? It's like P2 is allergic to giving straight direct answers. Everything is suggested and hinted at rather than clearly stated.

Anyway.

For your questions.

So how would the towns dynamic change if there was a fourth mistress?

Which town? No really, which version of the town are we talking about her? Pre-plague town? Okay, do you mean the first wave or the second wave? Or post-plague town? Then which ending are we going with?

Honestly, it would change as much as it changed when Clara got introduced. That's basically your best point of reference to what adding a fourth mistress candidate would cause. Take Clara, double it and give it to the 4th.

But keep in mind that the 4th will be a mistress candidate not a Mistress. Especially if she was birthed normally as a human and had to grow up–then her progress would match Maria and Capella who still haven't came into the Mistress title.

Clara is a special case, an outlier, and the spider George of Mistresses, so we are not counting her.

"To receive her full powers and become a Mistress, a future Mistress has to go through a painful process, accompanied by seizures and fainting, and then finally wake up. After that, she will not be the same person. A future Mistress must recognize the next Mistress, passing on continuity. It is not clear whether the role of Mistress is a tradition, or a necessary stage of mystical transformation. "

As long as the 4th is still herself, she has her personality and traits still, and then she hasn't become a Mistress yet. Remember how Capella started changing at the game end in P2? It's the best example there is of what would happen to her, what awaits Maria in the future as well.

Also she needs to be acknowledged by the other Mistress candidates, even if they hate each other they will still acknowledge her if they glimpse actual powers in her.

what better way to shake things up then have a fourth mistress who only reveals themself at the final moment?

Everyone can wield the sword, but not everyone can see the sword on the ground in the first place, which is why most people don't pick it up; they don't realise it's even there. Everyone CAN become a Mistress, but most women won't.

-

That's a very mild shaking, more like stirring a cup of coffee. It's too late for her to do anything meaningful or affect any outcome. The Mistresses do not decide the game endings, the healers do. (Except anomaly mcguffin Clara again bc fuck me ig)

Block and Lilich do not believe in the Mistresses or respect them much, and it's them you need to convince to spare the town. Clara could brainwash people unless the 4th can do that too then...yeah, no.

Even then, she needed the same 13 days of preparations beforehand and a tremendous amount of human sacrifice. Most reactions to a new Mistress revealed from thin air at the last day would be like

Maybe this persons family hid them/ their abilities away from the rest of the town for their protection?

"oh cool. So like where were you while people were dying?"

-

Mistresses are mothers. That's basically it. They "mother" the town and its people, they have the heavy presence of a parent you have no choice but to abide to. You want to please them, you feel the need to obey them much like a kid clings to the skirt of their mother.

That's counterproductive. It's Mistresses who protect people, not the other way around. Their abilities are celebrated—even Nina the Evil was adored and respected despite her wrongdoings. No one dared lay a singer finger on her, not just out of fear but out of genuine reverence.

And she has, in fact, killed people.

And if she was hidden, it means she never got properly acknowledged by the other mistress candidates. So she never officially became a candidate herself and hasn't earned the title yet, only managing to hold very little power and influence.

Best case scenario, Capella integrates her into the termites/her vision of the new town. She wanted Clara to join her cause yk, but Clare refused.

... but maybe the ones who hid her did it out of fear they might lose her? Once she ascends to power, she will lose herself, feelings, and everything she once held dear. A complete factory reset of her brain. Sure, she still has her memories, but they feel like a stranger's more than hers.

That's one reason to prevent someone from pursuing their Mistress potential.

-

Or Meta reasons they only get added in because the kids got a new doll they wanted to add into a preexisting story?

That's clever! She needs to be a hated toy like the rest for them to throw her in there. It will need to be both, tho. The kids AND the hiding thing lore working in unison.

-

I’m curious on how you personally think something like that would work/if it could work as a concept!?

It's very feasible and could definitely work! But without time, preparation, and coming out of hiding years in advance if she is human, then she won't make much of a difference to the main story except be an interesting sideplot.

Think of it this way, All the herb brides hold the potential to be Earth Mistresses. That's how little it requires to be a mistress candidate. You are somehow connected to any string of magic in any form? Congratulations! You can enroll in the Mistress Academy starting today!

But it doesn't mean you will pass, or be accepted by the current best Mistress candidates.

You also need to want to do it, as in actively train and seek it out. If you ignore it, the power growth stunts.

-

Since you seem to have a really good understanding on those kinda things! so I trust your judgment sorry if this is annoying I promise I’m not trying to be!!

I...don't think I have that good of an understanding. I don't think I even qualify to answer this. I haven't played the Changeling route yet, nor finished the Bachelor. I just reread the wiki a lot and scoure whatever info I can find on the sub reddit.

Specifically "info" cited screenshots and texts, I don't trust opinions and theories because Pathologic is very abstract and vague, P2 even more so than P1. Two people could easily misinterpret the same concept, then the most popular version gets spread around and everyone thinks its canon.

Like Isidor adopting Rubin when it never happened, yes they planned it but he died before it could happen.

Or Daniil being short? He is pretty tall and strong, he survived a fist fight with Artemy.

Or MY BIGGEST PET PEEVE EVER, PEOPLE WHO ASSUME THE GAINT PAINTING HANGED AT THE ENTRANCE OF VICTOR'S OFFICE IN P2 IS HIS WIFE NINA.

NO! it's Maria's. Yes, she has short hair. It's her board game portrait. That's his daughter, you pricks! stop writing lewd stuff about it and the scene where he has a breakdown in front of it—it was supposed to be a bittersweet thing for him to sit on the ground in front of his daughter's painting, now you just made it about his wife and sexual stuff.

It's a reference to the many paintings of her he had in his P1 office.

My point is. I can get things wrong too, there are huge gaps of information in my brain, I am also very biased towards certian theories.

Treat this whole essay as a suggestion, a reference sheet rather than a guideline. A lot of things are left vague and up to personal interpretation, which I like a lot!

I know a lot of people have issues with Pathologic open-ended plots and optional multie choices that can be contradictions, making it harder to have a set-in-stone canon about the characters.

But I like it :) It is a meta game, after all, right? It makes sense for the player to get the power to alter this version of reality slightly. And the worlds have already changed in each playthrough! it is on purpose, a canon in game because it breaks the 4th wall. So, mulite universes and versions of events can co-exist at the same time.

Capella was right about there being a fourth hidden cog, Daniil, Artemy, and Clara are the obvious clear three.

But she was wrong about it being the Kin, because it actually is you.

The Player.

The Bachelor, The Haruspex, The Changeling, and The Player.

You've always been the hidden fourth power, the extra healer who persistently tries to cure the plague in three different universes.

That's why I love the opening cinematic in the theatre so much! The three of them are on the stage, under the spotlights and in plain view.

While you, the only other person in the room besides them, are hidden up in the corridor. Veiled by the darkness, silent and voiceless, making your way to the same exit they are.

You always belonged to the same group as them. You just were and will always be hidden out of sight and mind. Only spoken with through 4th wall breaks, even then, the characters aren't allowed to acknowledge it or remember it afterwards. You're immediately ereased from the memory of anyone you converse with after the last word is said.

-

I didn't get a chance to thank you for your sweet words, so thank you! <3 I'm glad you enjoyed my writing. I had fun delving into this, used it as an excuse to avoid my responsibilities - today has been... horrible.

I assure you, you're not annoying or anything. I'm very happy with these types of questions! I like writing x reader as much as I enjoy talking about the game, discussing and analysing the plot! I love dissecting things under a microscope, and if I do get something wrong, I try to go back and fix it.

Also a reminder, this whole post only applies to the canon of P1. It won't add up in P2 lore, neither do i plan analysing much of a game that's still not finished. Without the Bachelor and Changeling routes, we can't say much about the plot.

Thank you for the flower, that was like really endearing and cute—here's a flower back 🌺 I really like hibiscus.

[dalmascan-requiem]

Lente's Hymn: Resistance (Chapter 1)

-------

It's time to face the past.

-------

Read on AO3 or keep reading after the jump

content warnings: none

Next Chapter >

------

It's finally time to start the Bozja fic! This is one of the most important bits for both of my boys, and it is angsty. They have a lot to work through, after all, since Kris went MIA for four years going around doing Warrior of Light stuff. I'm not sure how long this one will be, but we'll be going through the whole Bozja story in the process!

Of note, I've moved the Bozja storyline from post-Shadowbringers to post-Stormblood, and Cid's around more. That's the important canon-bending stuff!

"Must you glare at me so, Kris?" Hancock looks over the rim of his teacup at the Viera, rose-rimmed glasses making his gaze inscrutable. "Have some tea! I just wanted to have a simple chat."

Kris sighs and leans over to pour himself some tea. "Chats are never simple with you."

"Hah! You know me too well." Kris's frown only grows deeper as Hancock chuckles, and the Hyur quickly clears his throat before continuing. "I have something of utmost importance to discuss."

Of course it's important… no one would call the Warrior of Light for a relaxing tea time. Kris inwardly rolled his eyes at the unwanted title. He's helped to liberate countries and slew eikons the world over, but it's never enough to earn some rest.

"I received word from Lord Hien that our friends in the Bozjan resistance, our comrades in the Eastern Alliance, seek the aid of distinguished heroes in their fight against the Empire." Hancock sets down his teacup with a smile. "Naturally, your name immediately sprung to mind."

The Bozjan resistance, strange that they're asking for help. Kris remembered some of the interactions--or rather, arguments the Bozjan and Dalmascan resistances had over the years. Neither group was willing to accept much in the way of outside help, to both force's detriment. 

But Bozja won't truly be free without loosening the Empire's grip on Rabanastre, and that much is clear to Bojzans and Dalmascans both. 

That means working with them eventually… but with any luck my work will be done before I run into someone that recognizes me. The last thing he'd want is for--

"So, what say you?"

Kris snaps out of his thoughts to look at Hancock. I forgot he was talking… "Yes, of course. I can't very well deny them after you so… thoughtfully talked me up, now can I?" He stands up and heads toward the door, tea untouched. "I'll find Hien straightaway. Thank you for the tea."

"Ah, must you leave so soo--" Kris shuts the door before Hancock can finish his sentence.

~

The next few days flew by in a haze. It appeared that the Bozjan Resistance wanted more than just heroes--they also wanted to outfit them with recreations of the Blades of Gunnhildr. Seeing vaunted heroes on the field with such legendary arms would serve not only to boost morale, but also send the Garleans a message that the Queensguard lives on.

The problem was no one remembered how the godsdamned things looked. It appeared, however, that Mikoto from the Students of Baldesion was able to conceive a device to delve into a person's subconscious--and if they found someone that had been close to the weapons in the past, they could get the information they'd need to recreate them now.

However, years past, the Garleans destroyed the whole of the Bozja capital, and with it, the soldiers that would have seen the Blades. But if Mikoto's precognitive Echo was correct, there is one person who can still help… Cid Garlond.

"Bozja… I would never have thought I could try to atone all these years later." Cid's voice is quiet, nearly carried away from the wind whipping around the airship.

Kris looks towards the man in silence until he continues. "The incident that destroyed the captial… it was my fault. If I had only--"

"Self-flagellating will get you nowhere." I know that all too well myself. "We will be diving into your past shortly, anyway. No need to torture yourself by reliving it now."

"Perhaps…" Cid mumbles, then turns to meet Kris's gaze. "Bozja is but a stone's throw away from Dalmasca."

Kris frowns slightly. "That it is."

Through a lapse of judgment on Kris's part, Cid found out about him being a former member of the Dalmascan Resistance. He didn't tell the Garlean much of the details, just enough to sate his curiosity. Thankfully, for his part, Cid never told another soul about this.

But his past is hard to ignore when it's so close by.

Cid clears his throat, then continues. "Is seeing your former comrades again something you wanted? No doubt they be happy to know one of their own is the Warrior of Light."

"I doubt that, Cid. And you know full well it's never been about what I wanted."

The sharp edge in Kris's tone stops Cid from prying further, and the Garlean falls silent until he speaks up again. "My apologies, that came out harsher than intended. Regardless, the Bozjan resistance is not working with Dalmasca--they'd spend too much time bickering instead of fighting the enemy."

"I see…" Cid stares at the horizon as Gangos comes into view, lost in thought.

Kris follows suit, looking at the fastly approaching cove. "Are you ready?"

"No, but I will face the past regardless."

~

Kris sighs as he watches the sunset. He and Mikoto delved into Cid's past as planned, and the Garlean was forced to face some harsh truths about his family and his past. It felt cruel, putting him through that…

However, the effort wasn't fruitless. Cid had been in the inner sanctum that held the Blades, and seen each in enough detail wherein the others could recreate both the look and the important inscriptions upon each weapon.

But as expected, creating the weapons takes time, and Kris has spent the last few days idle. He has offered to go to the battlefront, but Bajsaljen had refused, urging Kris to save his strength. The Viera spins a ring on his finger, frustrated with being unable to do anything.

Kris's ears twitch to the direction of footsteps from behind, breaking him out of his ruminations. He turns around quickly to the sight of Bajsaljen. "Apologies, I hadn't meant to sneak up on you."

Kris simply shakes his head and turns his gaze from the Hrothgar to the weapon in his hands. "Is that the blade you'll have me wield?"

"Yes." Bajsaljen lifts the greatsword up slightly. "This is Blade's Justice, a greatsword used by one of the Queensguard with some… more unique abilities."

Another Dark Knight, then. He takes the greatsword in hand and turns it over a few times. What a savage looking blade… and deadly sharp to boot. It'd take no effort to cleave a man in two. Such a fitting weapon for the Warrior of Light.

The Resistance leader continues. "The inscriptions you helped us recover have a use, as well. If you channel a small amount of aether into the blade, it will glow. Many soldiers rallied to the Queensguard on the battlefield by looking for the weapons' glow."

"Makes sense. Easier than trying to yell over the noise of battle, and it wouldn't be a proper recreation if it didn't act as a beacon… for allies and enemies alike." Bajsaljen fumbles over his words in an attempt to respond, but Kris ignores him and channels a sliver of aether into the blade. 

The weapon begins emitting a dark purple hue, somehow bright in spite of the shade. He watches the blade's colors pulse and shift for a moment before cutting off the flow of aether. 

"Fascinating." Kris looks back up to Bajsaljen. "Thank you, I'll be sure to use it well."

"Of that I have no doubt." Kris had thought the conversation would have ended there, but as the Hrothgar shifted his feet in the sand, it was clear he was not yet done.

"What else, Bajsaljen?"

"Ah--we've… we've completed the recreation of all the weapons, so we are nearly ready for you to join the front lines. We're simply waiting for the soldiers from Dalmasca to join us."

"The Dalmascan Resistance? I thought your group and theirs were on poor terms."

Bajsaljen lets out a growl of frustration. "That is true, but… we thought to extend our hand in hopes of mending the rift, and having a few of their strongest fighters wield the Blades and fight with us. To me, there seems no better way to work towards our shared goal than for the troops to see us all fighting together."

"I can't argue to that." As much as I wish I could… Godsdamnit, why is Dalmascan getting involved already? "Who are the soldiers they're sending?"

"I don't have any names, but of importance, they have a fighter that can wield the Blade's Resolve."

Kris's eyes widen slightly in shock. "You mean… the gunblade? Why would you have a Dalmascan wield the very symbol of the Queensguard?"

"We… have no Gunbreakers among our ranks. Not anymore." Bajsaljen shakes his head and shifts his gaze to the nearly-set sun. "We thought the art completely lost when the capital was destroyed, as so many were killed when the capitial fell. We had heard of a survivor happening upon the Dalmascan Resistance, however, and that he trained anyone with the aptitude how to wield a gunblade."

The Hrothgar crosses his arms. "Likely he thought he was the only one left and needed to pass down the art any way possible."

"I see…" Kris remembered the time the Hrothgar mercenary came across his camp all too well. He indeed taught as many as he could how to use a gunblade, but only a handful of soldiers showed enough aptitude and confidence to take them afield.

"But you needn't worry about the resistances' petty squabbles. Just know that you will have allies at your side." Bajsaljen turns around and begins heading back to the camp. "Rest well, the fighting will begin soon."

Kris watches Bajsaljen leave, then looks down at the greatsword, nervously strumming his fingers against the hilt. What awful luck to have Dalmascans joining us so soon. I hope no one recognizes me. And a gunbreaker too… The Warrior of Light looks out on the water reflecting the last light of dusk. I know there are several gunbreakers among their ranks, and likely even more have joined since I left, but I can't help but think to…

~

"Elja."

Laurent doesn't turn away from the papers scattered across the table of his tent. "What is it?"

"A-a message from the commander."

The Viera waves a hand vaguely toward the edge of the table. "Put it there, I'll look at it later."

He hears the messenger clear his throat. "The commander said the orders are urgent and I'm not to leave until I've seen you open it."

Laurent huffs and turns on his heel, facing the messenger. "Fine. Give it to me."

The messenger shifts his eyes away from Laurent and holds the letter out.

"Don't be so nervous, that'll get you killed next time you're carrying urgent messages across dangerous territory." Laurent grabs the letter out of the messenger's hand as he attempts to string together a response.

"I… yes, s-sir, noted sir…"

Laurent ignores him as he breaks the seal. Whenever Fran needs something from me, it's never anything pleasant. As fushcia eyes continue to scan the letter, he could tell that this time would be no different.

~*~

I have an urgent request of you. The Bozjan Resistance is looking to make a push to liberate their lands now that Garlemald is reeling from its losses. They are looking to recreate the Gueensguard, with none other than the Warrior of Light at their head.

Furthermore, the Bozjans have asked for a few token warriors in our ranks to help with the push, looking to bring us into the Queensguard as well. It appears to be a goodwill attempt, perhaps a way to get us to shift our focus to Bozja. That said, a unified front will be better than a fragmented one, so regardless of the reason I felt compelled to agree.

You are to travel to Gangos, where the resistance is currently stationed. Go there, accept their terms, and fight to free Bozja so we can free our own lands. Make sure our interests are known, so that they will not forget this kindness and help us, in turn.

~*~

"What in the seven hells is this? I am to simply drop everything and head to Bozja? Ridiculous--" Laurent looks up from the letter to complain to the messenger only to find him gone. I guess he did see me open the letter…

He reads over the contents a few more times before pinching the bridge of his nose. Gods, why me? I've never been good with the politics of dealing with the Bojzans. Eir was-- Laurent shakes his head and begins packing the tent up. I came here to fight, not to deal with the hemming and hawwing of the Bozjans.

"And the Warrior of Light, too…" The Viera clicked his tongue in annoyance. He had heard plenty of stories of the hero that has liberated countries around Hydaelyn, but he also knew they were too fantastical to be true.

No singular person could achieve such feats on their own. "On top of the Bozjans I'll have to deal with some pretenious and over-confident child that rode on the coattails of the armies and took all the credit. Gods, what a mission…"

But, I can't refuse Fran, so… I best prepare to leave.

[aurorawest]

Title: The General Mess and Imprecision of Feeling Author: @aurorawest​​ Rating: M (language, violence, sexual content) Relationships: Loki/Stephen Strange, Loki & Thor, Jane Foster & Loki, Jane Foster/Thor Major Archive Warnings: Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings Word Count (so far): 6.0k Summary: Loki knows his feelings for Stephen Strange are a capital B-Bad Idea. Whatever character growth he’s struggled through hasn’t changed the fact that he’s uniquely incapable of making another person that kind of happy for more than a night.

When a powerful Asgardian artifact goes missing, Loki and Stephen must team up to track it down—especially once it becomes clear that the theft is part of a larger, insidious plot.

Can Loki tie together the loose threads of his life: the threat to New Asgard, his friendship with Stephen, and the feelings he can’t stop no matter how hard he fights, and write himself a happy ending?

Thank you to my betas, @mareebird​​​​​​​​​​​​ and AsgardianHarmony!

Chapter 2, The Odinson/Foster Household, is posted!

Ugh, well, it wasn’t like his dinner date wouldn’t get out. Not dinner date. Dinner. Dinner…engagement. Someone would see him meet Strange this evening and most of the village would know by the time he got home. He cleared his throat. “Actually, it’s funny. I would have thought he’d come by to say hello, since the two of you get on.” Silence from Jane. “Strange.” “What’s strange?” “No—Strange. The man. The wizard.” God, he could hear Strange in his head: The man, the myth, the legend.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | Epilogue

[shipcestuous]

This post is a collection of asks from the same anon. It seemed easier to post/answer this way. So these recommendations come from the anon and not from me. 

Call me~ Anon Sophie~, part 3/3 

Speaking of Content... Have you seen (if you haven't then.. this is a list of recs!):

The Films:

°Black Island (2021) https://www.netflix.com/title/81170838?preventIntent=true (Category: Aunt Nephew)

The plot was Completely Absurd at points

+he has no idea she's his aunt until much too late whilst she knows

but their chemistry was... Something Else.... makes the absurdity of the plot not even matter cuz ur like wow That Chemistry Tho.

ETA: I just realized the black island (2021) link I sent had a dubbed in english trailer.

I watched the subbed version&recommend that one to watch to anyone out there, just fyi.

Netflix dubs always sound slightly off to me.  Something about the emotion getting lost in translation...

__________________________________

°Map To The Stars(2014) https://m.imdb.com/title/tt2172584/ (Category: Mainly Brother Sister but there's Some subtextual & a tiny bit of blatant textual Mom Daughter stuff going on with Havana)

Don't care what anyone says, Agatha & Benjie carry that film & are the reason I will love it to pieces for eternity. Their dynamic is so very trippy&sad&dark but amazing.

__________________________________

Sister My Sister (1994) https://m.imdb.com/title/tt0111205/

Murderous Maids (2000) (aka Les blessures assassines) https://m.imdb.com/title/tt0216578/

(Category: Sister Sister)

Both Films about the same tragic situation but I only recently heard about MM

so I watched it to see if it was better or worse then SMS & it turns out that I like both films equally for different reasons.

__________________________________

° Say That You Love Me (2011) short film (aka Powiedz, ze mnie kochasz https://m.imdb.com/title/tt2084080/   (Category: Brother Sister)

~english subtitles https://vimeo.com/46529127/description

No idea how I even came across it (it is funny to me tho that ever since I started really getting into these kind of films, tv shows etc I happen upon them without having to actively search for it nowadays, like they fell from the sky lol)

__________________________________

The First Hope (2013) short film https://m.imdb.com/title/tt2401394/  (Category: Brother Sister)

https://vimeo.com/50655982/description

No clue how I found this one either but that one girl from Riverdale is in it, so it was pretty cool to see her.

Also this was kinda precious 😢

__________________________________

(bonus bonus round (ok last last ask for real.. Probably... For today anyway))

Oh! Also Have you seen:

°Amityville II: The Possession (1982) https://m.imdb.com/title/tt0083550/ (Category: Brother Sister)

Just watched it today.  It was very interesting.... because he gets..  Capital P Possessed? But she at no point is-

which implied to me that she had a clear head the whole time about...  Certain Things,

(she also says something very key later in the film which also gave me that impression.. lol I'm trying to reveal.. without being truly spoilery if u haven't seen it&I don't think I've pulled it off in any of my asks 😥 sorry)

whilst his head was muddled so it makes everything that happens both tragic but also like it must have stemmed from somewhere,

well not the end (I think the end was pure ~he is possessed~ because I doubt there is any world in which non possessed him would ever do what he did)

but the middle/beginning of the film to me, was a mix of what I believe was possession+inner subconscious from him&pure subconscious moving into slightly conscious from her.

Some of these titles are brand new to me so I am really excited to be able to add some new things to my canon masterlists and have some new recs on the blog. As well as some additional commentary. Thank you so much for the links and the details! What a nice variety of different things, too. 

I apologize for taking so long to answer. I’ve been bad recently, only answering asks once a week. Ideally I like to do it at least twice a week. 

Call me ~Anon Blah at this point:

(Last one & then I'm putting myself in timeout))

Also also I don't know if ur a fan of or against ~Sailing the High Seas~ as it were

because I have .. links to places to watch all the stuff I just recced if you haven't seen it & have no place to view it

but some blogs are against those kinds of links so if ur okay with links then I'll send another ask but if ur not then lol ignore me mentioning it 😉

Yes high seas links are very welcome. Don’t worry about it for these ones, but in the future please feel free (and encouraged) to include. And I hope more incest movies and shorts will fall into your lap!

[creaticare]

I have been tagged by @grayseyebrowscar for a WIP game, and I have too many WIP's to not make a separate post. Some of them haven't been touched in ages, but they are still WIP's. There are also themes of death, abuse, and self-harm at least in the titles, and maybe in the WIP sentences.

rules: share the first line (or two or more!) of every current wip you have (that you feel comfortable sharing) and tag some writer friends! feel free to add the titles of your documents if you see fit

AOT

Guardian Angel: "Sasha sat up and looked around at her surroundings, she was back at her house in the forest.*

Criminal Minds

Our Witches Heart: "Reid sat at his desk just spinning around, he had finished his paperwork a while ago and now he was just letting his head roam."

DC Comics/Young Justice

Fear Toxined Batfam: "It was a normal patrol when their comms crackled to life, Oracle's voice coming through into their ears."

Green Lantern Ring: "The battle was nearing its end, the Justice League was on its last leg stopping these aliens."

Our friends shouldn't meet ends: "Jason stood with a sword in his hands, at the ready, a playful smile on his face as Wally also fell into stance."

When I Find You: "Dick always found the prospect of soulmates intriguing, his parents seemed like they had a perfect unbreakable bond, so that means he should also have the perfect bond when he was older."

Fairy Tail

MCD one-shots Bxl: "The feeling of being burned from the inside out wasn't one that Bixslow would ever say he appreciated, especially as he felt blood dribble out of his mouth."

MCD one-shots Gjl: "The Guild Hall was buzzing with an uneasy energy under the normal rambunctiousness."

Our Souls Weave Through, Chp 3: "Another week had passed since they had first found themselves in these strange times."

Our Souls Weave Through, Abuse, Gjl: "Gajeel absolutely hated it here, he has only been a part of Phantom Lord for a month and he was miserable, best guild along with the ranks of Fairy Tail his ass."

Our Souls Weave Through, Bitey One-Shot: "Fairy Tail was pretty used to the biting habit Natsu seemed to have, most of them having grown up with him, and having seen him constantly doing it, or being a victim at one point or another."

Haikyuu:

Got a secret series, Can you Keep it: "After all the Ushijima Fiancé craziness had washed over, a fan chose to go back and rewatch the interview."

Swim, Spike, Receive: "Kageyama Tobio didn't always live in Miyagi, he actually used to live in Tokyo with his older brother."

My Life is your Tribute, Hunger Games Crossover: "The ten districts of Panem all used to be one unified country along with their Capital, until they rebelled, causing a war to spread."

Racing Royalty: "Empress sat upon the hood of her car as her Knight filled up the gas in preparation for the race."

Tsukishima's Shoulder, Finding our Footing: "He kept going through the cycles, kept going through these large cycles of doubt. The surgery date was creeping up on him and he was scared."

Creepy Crawly Crows: "The two teams on the court flinched back and the crowd went silent as the Military burst through the doors in the gym."

Figure Four, Finale: "The announcer cleared their throat to get the attention of the stadium, 'Everyone there is still one more performance for today.'"

Sewn Silence: "Bokuto's insecurities were knocking on the metaphorical door once again, he had the all locked away behind a wall of fake emotions."

Short & Tall: "Nishinoya picked up his pace as he tried to keep up with Tsukishima's freakishly long strides. This was one of the many reasons he was not a fan of tall people, they walk too damn fast."

TPN x Haikyuu: "Emma threw her head back as she felt the breeze pass by, she took a deep breath of her true freedom."

Buckle up, it's MHA time

(I have so many MHA fics, at least plans, I was hyperfixated on it for a long time.)

1-A childhood friends and soulmates: "Memories are a fickle thing, you cherish them when you're young, but they will slowly disappear as you grow. Those who you would hold so close to your heart, will suddenly disappear."

Bomb on Campus: "The bright numbers flashed over the campus as teachers were guiding students out of the buildings and through the gates."

Bonding Notes, Chp 3: "As Shoji makes his way into the dorm he digs into his pocket for his white cane."

Fuck, it's the Family: "When class 1-A walked into the classroom one fateful morning they were put on edge by the sinister smile on their teacher's face."

Gouged Clouds and Pittering Paws: "Aizawa was born with his Parental Mark set on his collarbone, a small black cat curled up, sleeping peacefully."

Interviews with the 3's: "The recording flickered on as they all sat around the common rooms of the dorm, Class 3-A and 3-B convened together."

Mutation Quirk Erasure: "Aizawa woke up and went to wake up his kids with a bad feeling in his gut, his brain telling him that something had happened."

Quirk Drawback Fics, Shoji: "The day had been slow, they all started off with Homeroom and then went through their classes until getting to hero training."

Separated for Safety, Chp 2: "Bakugo woke up, his vision slowly coming into focus, he stares at the bright white ceiling as he tries to remember what happened."

Splat the Colorful Hero: "Deku sat atop the roof that All Might had left him on, he sat on the edge with his legs dangling over."

Trauma and Friends: "The class had been getting closer, they were three fourths of the way through their first year at UA, but there were still some barriers between them."

Vanishers, Later in the fic: "Aizawa's head swiveled around to look at the door that had just been flung open, standing there was a panting Present Mic."

What Happened to Memories?: "Memories are a precious thing, but they always seem to just disappear."

When time turns back: "The class was scattered around the area as they fight villains in close and far quarters."

3 Pros, 1 Civilian: "Izuku Midoriya was an odd kid raised in odd ways, he has 4 parents that helped raise him but that's not what was weird about it."

3-A year: "Shoji quickly finished packing his bag, even though classes didn't start till tomorrow he wanted to make sure he had time to move back into the dorms, and get adjusted to his friends."

Deaf MHA: "Aizawa watched his students closely both in and out of class so at any moment he could see if there was anything wrong with them."

Pro Hero Wards, Chaos Fic: "Shoji sits in the common room with his stuff as the class slowly leaves for Christmas break, he was one of the few left waiting."

Shoji Retires: "He couldn't have even told them himself, they had to find out from the official Pro Hero news. Katsuki had run across the article that morning and sent it to the group chat of their old class."

Whumptober

Day 7: "She looks behind her quickly to check if the people are still following her, she doesn't see anyone, but she keeps running."

There are all of my Current and Old WIP's, I'm not gonna tag anyone, but it's open for anyone who wants to do it.

[01001000-01000001-01001100]

Dropping random facts about my trollstuck AU on my silly little sideblog while the other people involved in it are asleep B]

(because I might come to my senses and delete this later)

So you've got Hal, see, and he's a fuchsiablood, so he's a seadweller

Yeah this mf wears a wetsuit everywhere (all the easier to clean the blood off of amirite)

Short for a fuchsiablood his age but like. Still over 6 feet tall (BEFORE HIS ADULT MOLT! He's gonna be like 11 feet tall after it :,) because even if I can't be absurdly tall he can)

Since """"biological sex"""" is even less of a thing for trolls than for humans, one could argue that it doesn't make sense for him to be trans in the first place since theoretically gender is arbitrary and every troll is inherently trans and intersex therefore none of them are, but he's still trans Because I Said So

Adding on to that, since he's a royalblood (and according to the wiki they're all female) everyone probably just went 'wait, MALE?????' and so he probably had The Trans Experience™ of being frequently misgendered by strangers. At least before he grew to notoriety

bitch why does misgendered have the red squiggly line under it it's a real fucking word

*clears throat* ANYWAYS

Trolls have a bunch of cat behaviors also Because I Said So (I'm a catboy ok what did you expect). Like purring and shit

Similarly, there's a like. Biological response (I guess? I'm bullshitting here. It's pheromonal or some shit idk) to keep moirails from murdering each other when one is in a capital-r Rage (or even just regular pissed and murdery) and the other is within Murdering Distance (This is canon compliant as far as I know)

Hal literally stole someone's bones one time it's genuinely established canon (I'm not even kidding he telekinetically ripped out their fucking bones one at a time. He was very, VERY pissed and, well, in a Rage)

He changed his typing quirk at some point to match his moirail's more closely

}It used t() l()()k s()mething like this, if I re((all ((()rre((tly{

(Well. That's the in-universe reason. Really it was annoying to read so I changed it)

This AU has been rotating slowly in the back of my mind for quite some time so the Ye Olde typing quirk was actually a thing I came up with months ago in real time and the changing it thing was more recent

I'm brainrotting send help

Hal can't kill the condesce for. Normal reasons (*coughs into my fist* brainwashing actually but shh.)

Yeah it’s a whole thing

There’s also the whole. Helming thing

I am SOOO normal about mind fuckery *kicking my feet and giggling*

Anyways. Hal's weapon of choice is a naginata rather than a katana because something something fish->spear->weeb

Yeah sure he PREFERS to fight with telekinesis generally but "there's something so satisfying about stabbing people y'know???" (for legal reasons this is a joke I have never stabbed anyone)

He would do anything for his moirail tbh (this comes up often. It... causes problems down the line. The sheer devotion of this man smh.... it's also due to Normal Reasons btw)

why am I being vague about who his moirail is the only people who might see this post already know it's just Dirk :\

fuck it we ball. *commits to the bit*

who am I even talking to here I've addressed statements toward a General Audience but also don't intend for random people to see this

uhhhhh anyways. one eye is fuchsia the other is good ol' #e00707

(I project on to this mf SO MUCH- like I even fuckin realized his relationship with the condesce could be seen as an allegory for my relationship with my father and the trauma bonding wait why I am talking about this on the World Wide Web jegus grist)

uhhh uhh anyways he's in a kismesissitude with Jake

I have a shipping chart of this actually it's titled "THE POLYCULE"

It's on paper but it looks something like this (the other two alpha kids are omitted):

Yeah

he's a femboy

I typically use the term 'boi' to refer to him yes this is deliberate and not just Ha Ha Funneeee Meme

He's absolutely just. Gender goals.

though it's unorthodox for the higher-blooded moirail in a moirallegiance to do, he wears lots of accessories of his moirail's blood color because Fuck The Hemospectrum

This doesn't stop him from showering his moirail in gifts of clothes and jewelry of his own blood color tho. Probably a troll thing tbh

There are So Many things where I'm just like 'ha ha troll instinct' I should probably write down all the random shit that is canonically (in this AU anyway) just A Troll Thing.

A solid 80% of the things Hal does are 'to piss off condy'

gotDAMN do I want to rp right now. I want to like. Go onto pesterchum and inflict his presence onto people. maybe he can bond with some random-ass Dirk over how much they both hate the condesce

is the fact that she's just normal HIC a plot hole? lil bit

it's technically a no-sburb/sgrub AU but in a 'they don't play the game' way. my idea is that maybe Something got fucked up with the coding of the game and now it's a Time problem because the players exist, but they don't end up playing the game, despite needing to in order to exist in the first place idk I'll figure that out later

Aaaaaaaanyways. post-crash, Hal might change his trolltag I haven't decided yet

[rottingintheautumn]

My Personal Interpretation Of the Song "Get Money N Die" by Sematary.

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(Note that this is just an Interpretation of this song could totally just be sematary flexing hahaha but I'm autistic and I like looking deeper into things so fuck u)

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Now on Surface level this songs is very straight forward with what it is saying Basically just the title of the song itself "Get Money N Die" But I think there's something a little bit more to it When You start take These things into Consideration.

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Sematary's Rise From 2019 to Now

Sematary's Love of Rural America and Folk/Country Music

Current Economic Situation

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To Summerize How Big The Haunted Mound has gotten let me show you all the achievements of The Haunted Mounds Career

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SLUG CHRIST Feature on SKINWALKER

Butcher House Tour Selling Out Shows all over America and Europe

Black Kray Feature on Hallowed B Thy Wrist

Popularizing brands like "Affliction" and "Truey Jeans" Among the community and later having its own influence outside of the circle.

Collabing and making Clothes With "Affliction"

A FUCKING SOSA FEATURE

Bloody Angel's Tour and The Haunted Mound Polos Selling Out During the Tour.

Hitting 2 Million on SLUAGHTER HOUSE

Hitting 1 Million on Haunted Mound Reapers

WENDIGO being his fastest growing song

Bloody Angel Mixtape being in Top 10 of fastest "selling" albums of the week in America

Buckshot Modeling??

N More I'm probably forgetting

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Sematary Has Basically been grinding nonstop since 2019 to make all this happen just now finally officially taking a break from this to recuperate.

Note That His latest Mixtape "Bloody Angel" he has said in a interview that he has had to take Hella "Oxys" to even finish some songs so with that nugget of info we can safely say that he is exhausted and that "Get Money N Die" Is Victory Lap over his whole Career up to this point.

‐---------------------------------------------------------------

Now His Music Taste. Sematary has made it very clear he is an American Patriot and with that comes with His love of old Country and Folk Artist. One piticular Artist I want to pick that he has posted on his tumblr and put one of their songs on his "DO NOT LET ME DIE" DJ Mix. Is The Carter Family, Basically Legends in their respective genres and I really like their work too.

What makes them so interesting to me is how sad their music is. For what some people on surface level may think this is some genuinely beautiful and sad lyrics coming from this piticular band and it that sadness comes from the hopelessness of the time of when the great depression happened.

The Carter Family made music through out the entirety of The Great Depression and with that came Beautiful songs like "Never Grow Old" and "When The Worlds On Fire".

Given That History of the time and this band and the music that they made with it and Sematary's general love (and hate) for America I feel Like it perhaps had some influence on sematary For this song.

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Now the less fun shit to talk about that just makes everything feel hopeless.

We all basically kinda know it inflation had been fuckin NUTS America and run by capitalism and heavy commercialization of everything You can basically get money out of anything and Retirement ages have been increased to 62 in a world where of half of the people barely make it to 45..

America has been built up to point where if u aren't making constant money at all the damn time while also making it so that u can barely get personal shit and only give JUST enough money to even survive.

America Has quite literally built to a point where it literally is "Get Money N Die"

OOOH OBLIGITORY REFERENCE TO THE ORIGINAL POINT OF THIS ESSAY TO MAKE IT ALL FULL CIRCLE HAHAHAHAHA

But like seriously Normal Mfs and even mfs with degrees are barely getting enough to survive it fr is fucked up out here with little to no breaks.

And im gonna do it again

In the grand scheme of things, it really is Just Get Money N Die

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Now With all these Points Combined to me this Song Feels Like A Victory Lap that Sematary is Proudly Parading in this song as He has grinded hard for years to reach these heights with Lyrics like

"imma flex till I dyyeee... cuz boy u no I grriinnddd.." and "I gotta go riiddeee 49 more miilezz till tha end of tha niittee.... Haunted Mound Reaper Count tha Money Uuuppppp!!".

And also this song could be a satirical take on America's Views and Capitalism and how absurd shit be with money. Specifically with the lyrics

"Get Money, Get Money nn dyyyeee!! Wooah wooooaaahh I LOOKED DEEP INTO YR EYYEESS... N ALL I SAW WAS LIIIEEESSS!!!" and the line that really started this whole yap fest. "Money WONT save yr soul when tha Reaper comes..."

That line alone had me thinking of is this track has something more to it or is it just sematary flexing?

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Me personally I think it's both.

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Thank u for reading my yap fest and my shit outro to this I love u.

Fuck the Government 1312 Kill all Transphobes Stay Rockin in tha Free World and god bless the Haunted Mound