#i like looking at the characters and seeing how the times have shaped their portrayal

[skimmingmilk]

howdy skim! how do you get Sonic and Tails characterization so spot on? Typically watching cutscenes i can read between the lines or think deeper on some bits of the games but you just flesh them out beautifully and I was just wondering what your interpretation of Sonic and Tails is!

Hi there! :D

Ahh, thank you! I’m so happy you like their characterization! Watching cutscenes does really help get the voices down, but you’re right in that it doesn’t give us a ton of emotional range to work with. I think—in the case for how I approach Sonic and Tails specifically in the Picket Fence series—it helps that their foundation is a mix of game personality and AoStH personality. 

AoStH, while a very silly series, offers a lot in terms of range for Sonic and Tails’s emotions and reactions to stress. We get to see Sonic angry and upset and scared in ways beyond what the games tend to show and Tails is very much a little kid just doing his best, with a bit of a stubborn and defiant side to him. Taking these traits and emotions and more or less infusing them into the game portrayals (specifically Adventure and Adventure 2) are kind of how I establish their baseline.

The rest has just been practice! I’ve written so much of these guys now, their behaviors and the way they think have become almost hardwired into my brain xD I didn’t start out super confident about my portrayal of them—Sonic in particular used to give me a lot of stress because of how much stock people can put in how he’s characterized. I thought for sure people weren’t going to like how I wrote him at all—and I’m positive there are people who don’t and that’s fine! But I wasn’t writing for them. I’m not writing for Sega or any official media, I’m writing for me and the people who want to read the same stories I do. 

**Edit: This isn't to disparage anyone who is more particular about how Sonic's portrayed. It's solely because there's already so much stress involved in the writing process, I don't need the added stress of writing for an audience that wouldn't like my style anyway hanging over my head! Especially when it's free fanfiction I'm doing in my spare time for fun. There are plenty of other really talented writers out there who have their own spin or take on the characters that people can find enjoyment in <3 I don't have to please everyone and that takes off a lot of pressure!**

So that pushed me to find my footing as I put Sonic in situations I wanted to see. The more I wrote him and practiced his voice, the more natural it became. I got comfortable with him and the confidence just built up over time to the point where I can trust him to guide the narrative and get himself where he needs to be, rather than me just shoving him into place.

In a way it’s a lot like learning to draw them, right? First, you stick pretty closely to on model references to make sure they look like who they’re supposed to. You learn their shapes and defining features, then once you're comfortable, you start to branch out, push the limits, and infuse more of your own style to them. It’s the same with writing. You follow the guidelines canon materials have given you at first, but once you understand how the shapes of their personality traits fit together, you can bring your own style and flair to the writing to expand their potential and match the creativity of your ideas that go beyond what the games, comics, movies, etc. have covered. 

More about how I personally approach them beneath the cut, because this got long, I'm sorry xD

I think my interpretation of Sonic and Tails relies on a couple of things. First, their relationship to each other. They are best friends. Sonic has a lot of friends and cares about a lot of people, but Tails is specifically his best friend. I know I’ve mentioned it before, but it’s so important to me to establish that it’s a symbiotic relationship that goes both ways. It’s easy to see why Tails likes and admires Sonic, why he’d want to be his friend and that he looks up to him, it’s all part of his character arc in early games. So making sure Sonic views him in the same light is key—not just as a little brother figure he has to look out for, because that kind of responsibility doesn’t really align with Sonic’s free spirit*, but for Tails to be someone he genuinely admires and wants to be around. Sonic keeps pace with Tails because he wants to, because he’s choosing to of his own volition.

*Just want to add, that’s also what makes their dynamic so compelling to me. Sonic’s cool, rebellious, free spirit doesn’t typically lend itself to the idea that “my best friend is a sweet, eight-year-old genius mechanic who has a bit of a complex about me.” On a surface level, that doesn’t seem like it would align with a stereotypical “cool” character, at least not to me as an American kid in the 90s and early 00s. So playing with that and making sense of it is so fun and critical to my portrayal of him.

The second thing is mainly making sure my writing feels genuine. Like, I need to believe in the way I’m writing the characters because if I don’t, then I can’t possibly expect readers to. Sometimes it requires planting a few seeds along the way in order to earn the payoff of an emotional reaction, so that I can get to a place where I can write something like Sonic the Werehog hiding his face with one hand as he howls from the sheer relief of being free from the burden of taking a life that he was fully prepared to take on and believe him when he does. Or when Tails is trying to troubleshoot his own jealousy and insecurities on his own rather than talk it out, I need to believe that he believes what he’s doing makes perfect sense to him.

Honestly, my characterization of them is probably pretty skewed and biased to my personal tastes at this point. I don’t think this is a definitive way to write Sonic or Tails, but based on my experiences with how I’ve engaged with their characters throughout my life, I just write them exactly the way I want to and try not to worry about whether or not it aligns with others’ views of the characters. Taking away that pressure and outside influence gives me room to play and explore different possibilities. There are also certain characterization choices in canon media that I don’t necessarily agree with, but I try to work in aspects of that in a way that doesn’t totally contradict that piece of media while also aligning with my view of them, if that makes sense?

Basically I don’t disregard everything, but rather try and work it into my foundation that was built primarily on AoStH and the Genesis/Dreamcast-era Sonic games, so that people can still see a bit of Jason or Roger or Colleen's performances or nods to the OVA if that's their preferred piece of Sonic media. **Edit: I have the most familiarity with the English side of Sonic, but of course would want to be open to people who's favorite Sonic is Jun'ichi, too, I just haven't had as much exposure to him as Sonic, so can't say for certain if anything I've written feels in line with that**

I hope this answered your question? It was very compelling to think about and I hope it provided some insight into how I approach their characterization!

[kirbydots]

The fun and potentially insufferable thing about me is that one of my main forms of engagement with any media is analyzing the history of the genre and how it’s changed throughout the decades, so in any conversation I’m prone to unprompted rambling about where a certain archetype came from or the intersection between pulp noir and superhero comics back in the forties or whatever.

[offkilterkeys]

You draw tavros ugly and you need to stop. Or be better. Because your fucking bad at it.

Oh I’ve actually been working on that!!!!

Okay so basically like half a year ago I realized I didn’t like my art style and decided to do some Homestuck art studies as a means of getting better at like anatomy and stuff, and that’s where the Tavros on the left appeared from.

After I’d gotten the hang of it I started to reintegrate some of my old stylistic choices, as seen by the Tavros on the right. But honestly I felt meh about both of them cause neither of them line up with my previous portrayals/personal view of the character.

(Old art, circa about a year or so ago^ Shows I used to draw Tavros with less of a lanky body and more fat.)

So I finally decided to buckle down and get the character right and this was the result!

Now I’ll be the first to admit that it’s probably not perfect, but I’ve finally gotten to a point where I like how I draw Tavros again!!!!

The og Homestuck style has like, a lot of variation, and hero mode is honestly wayyyy more vast of a “style” than people give it credit for. Personally, I like to refer to each Homestuck style more by act/place it appears in comic rather than just blanked “hero mode” or “sprite mode,” because I like to integrate THOSE specific influences into my art.

With Tavros specifically I’d like to say the rounder shapes call back to the mixed sprite/hero mode that we see in Tavros’ introduction, as opposed to perhaps Sollux’s introduction panels, where his limbs are rigid and angular, and definitely more “hero mode,” which causes one to view the character as lankier/skinnier.

Either way, I’m still working hard at getting good at striking poses and not falling into “same body type syndrome,” as is often far too easy to fall into. In the past I found it difficult to draw skinny/lanky characters because I wasn’t super used to it, and as of recently I’ve been doing them wayyyy more but I still have an easier time drawing thicker/fatter limbs and stuff. If you’ve got any criticisms or the like, I’m happy to hear them!!!! Always looking to get better eventually :p

[lemonlimestar]

i absolutely adore your designs! id love to hear about your process for making characters who look similar in canon have unique and identifiable features!!

tysm :,) i’ve always been really into character design so it’s fun to translate that into characters i love.

as for making similar looking characters look different i drew up a little lineup.

this is gonna be a long one sjhdjsjs

cassie, steph, and mia are all beloved white, blonde, *skinny, teenage girls with roughly the same appearance so i decided to focus in on them.

(*they’re usually portrayed as being muscular/fit but nowhere near in same fashion as their male counterparts)

i wish there was a fancier way to put it, but honestly i just play around with shape language until i get a design i like. i try to lean into motifs/commonalities. (ex: the robins have larger noses to be sort of bird-like, cissie has a heart face to tie into the connection between archery & cupid, the house of el s-curl, cassie’s pigtails are shaped like stars) overall, doing lineups like these are really helpful when trying to make characters look different because it shows you a side-by-side of all the similarities & differences in how i draw the characters.

especially when they interact a lot (ex: wally & roy, kon & tim, cissie & greta) i don’t want them looking like siblings or to repeat the same features between characters who already look similar. unless i’m playing into that (dick & donna <3)

when changing race or body types, i try to factor in the actual character & their backstory. i tend to draw cassie stockier because of her more brawler-like fighting style + her being one of shorter yj kids. but also, i made greta chubby both because i thought it worked well with her shape language and i simply wanted to. the world is my oyster.

as for race, i’m a lot more careful about thinking about how being non-white would affect a character. i have to know a decent amount about a character before hitting them with The Self-Indulgence Beam. making a character black, brown, or asian shouldn’t be slapped on like a sticker without any care put into it. i feel like it’s a well-known point, but it’s worth mentioning especially because i’m black & i make so many characters non-white when i draw them.

back to canon portrayals, they’re some unique features given to them (ex: steph’s freckles aren’t always drawn but they do get featured a few times) so i try to make things like that a permanent physical feature. the curls were simply inspired by some other stephs i’ve seen :) i typically hc that she straightens & crimps them when she’s a teenager but i drew her with them for this example. i got very self-indulgent with my steph design because she’s my girl, but i also tried to keep in mind how she complements the people she interacts with the most (cass, tim, babs).

although i’ve enjoyed what i’ve read with her, i know the least about mia. so, i just gave her features i’d like to see more on teenage characters like acne. i pulled from some panels for the shape of her nose and adjusted the shade of her hair about a million times. i debated on giving her piercings, but ended up going against it because she doesn’t have invulnerability nor a full face mask & she doesn’t have piercings in any of the panels i saw of her.

although i’m not the hugest fan of the reveal of cassie secretly being a demigod rather than just having been given her powers, her being not entirely human gives me a little bit more leeway with her design in my head. hence the stark blonde in her lashes being inspired by fantasy design i enjoy.

one more thing i almost forgot was scars. obviously heroes with no powers would have more visible scars. just with the bats: they all have body scarring but i draw cass with more facial scars because of her history + she’s herself so she wouldn’t bother covering them v.s. tim, who doesn’t have visible facial scars bc he’s Very Particular about appearances, but he has a crooked nose.

scars can be fun to play with as far as trying to remember what happens to certain characters that would leave them scarred (cissie’s scar where the arrow went through her, any scars kon got from literally dying, wally’s or barry’s scarring from their “accidents”) they’re an interesting trait to add & reflects the whole vigilantism thing.

okay i think that’s all the thoughts i have. ik this got kinda rambley but i hope it was helpful 😭

here are some closeups, as a treat <3

[ebi-noodle-doodles]

Ok so I just found your blog and am in love with your art style and ofc your fat mikus! I just have a quick question--have any tips for drawing fat characters? I keep trying to, but every time it just looks so wierd. And I end up giving up. But I want to diversify sizes on my ocs! But anything that isn't the "standard" (aka what you see everywhere) size keeps looking off.

So any tips?

-@zakai-doodles

I can't fully say I'm an expert on the field since I'm still learning myself :D but here are the tips I can give on how I draw them

Notes: • Pear Shape-Star Shape/Teardrop shape • Give lines some weight- It emphasizes the softness of the character's body • ARMS- at first I didnt draw them plumpy, i got a comment saying the arms were thin so keep in mind. Fat gets distributed in the body, could be more on the belly or breasts or legs •BREASTS/CHEST- Gaining fat means gaining chests, but I don't think thats thats the case every time. While I see a lot of chubby characters being portrayed with heavy sets of jugs, based on my observation its not always the case and really just gives this idk weird portrayal of bodies that chubbs=big chests....hence the PEAR shape. •OBSERVATION and REFERENCING- This is the MOST IMPORTANT one. While I got used to drawing them without looking up references, it is important to work closer and learn more by observing side by side references to understand how body fat works. I think my works are still flat, having a reference gives you an idea how to approach on drawing it. •FACES/HEAD- I think I didnt change anything much with how I usually draw them. In my case I really like drawing them very cutesy like. The proportion of the face is smaller compared to the head giving an impression of (?) chubby face (dont know if I worded that correctly). •LINES- I tend to avoid sharp lines on chubby characters. I always try to make them look soft. •WEIRD TIP: How I actually learned is that I realize its like I'm drawing chibi characters but making them full(?). I realized that drawing chibi is somewhat similar to drawing chubby

[moonlightpeddler]

Hiatus

The game is on indefinite hiatus.

Demo

[Current word count without code: 11465 with two branches]

Life is unpredictable.

You have just been to your first party, with hope for a different, better, and more social future, but instead of waking up with a hangover, you wake up 13 months of coma later, severely ill and with no chance to build the life you wanted to live.

Confined at home, confined to the night by your medication, deprived of outside contact to keep stress away from you, and with food that tastes like iron, all you have is your loving family and the small village they have moved to during your long sleep.

The house is old, dilapidated, the neighbours unfriendly and distant, looking at you with strange eyes, whispering whenever you see them, treating you like your illness is contagious.

But why has your family never taken you to the hospital for a checkup? Since when do hospital doctors make frequent home visits, and only when their patient isn’t conscious?

What would happen if you open the curtains they tell you to keep closed?

The game is intended for a mature audience.

Blood

Violence

Self-harm (for a reason)

Murder

Assault

Brainwashing

Dysfunctional relationships

Co-dependency

Death

And many more.

Depending on the route you take, Cailean, your character, can not be said to be an innocent or good person, please make sure that you are okay with playing a non-human MC who might act accordingly.

Mending Yesterday pairs folk believes, old elements, and lore from different media, with Vampyr lifestyle to create a modern portrayal of vampires that retains the classic feel yet gives it a more down-to-earth presentation.

You take the place of an established character and turn the tale into your very own, form the adventure and how the protagonist faces his new reality.

Will you change Cailean’s behaviour over the course of the story, develop a new personality for your new life, or will you cling to your old self despite the consequences it could have?

Will you keep to yourself and your loved ones, build something new to spend your long life, or get involved in a struggle that isn’t yours? How will others see you, who are your friends and foes? Do you stick to those who are seemingly safe, or will you place your own judgement?

The game doesn’t give you an overpowered protagonist, you aren’t the chosen one, won’t save the world or change it in any meaningful way.

You are just a 19-year-old young man being in the wrong place at the wrong time, all you can do is live your own life that, in the grand scheme of eternity, is nothing but a fleeting picture.

Taking place in a fictional village in Ireland, the game takes a step away from the Urban-Vampire trope and focuses on dynamics commonly found in, very, rural places.

While I have abstained from using phonetics to make it easier for people not familiar with the country, selected sayings and use of words have been kept to preserve the feeling.

Mending Yesterday is most and foremost a horror-drama, character-driven and story-heavy, not a dating game. The only romantic candidate (male) is a central character and the relationship with him greatly influences the plot instead of being flavour or a sidenote; you can stay distant, friendly, close or even loving, all four options significantly shape your personal story.

Being a family-person, you will have to keep an eye on your parents and brother, how you react to the changes in your life, respond to situations, and how you treat them has a direct impact on how your adventure will go.

A character and relationship focused narrative requires you to think twice about how you interact with others, pay attention not only to yourself but those you meet, decide wisely about how to treat them and with whom you want to be close with.

There are relationship-stats you can and should check regularly, for they keep track not only of your bonds but could give you valuable information, yet they won’t ever tell you clearly what they mean.

Just like in real life, people aren’t open books.

Every choice you have to make is meaningful, it either changes or determines something important; you won’t be continuously prompted to make decisions. The game doesn’t bother with flavour.

Routes are roughly equally long, with several endings dedicated players can try to find.

Prologue

Cailean Morrison, whose place you take, is a 19-year-old geriatric-psychology freshman. Calm, quiet, and slightly distant, he was never good at making connections and even worse at maintaining them. He loves his family above all else, has a good heart, and is very fond of older folks.

James Morrison, Cailean’s father, 46 years old, family lawyer. He’s a sensible, somewhat emotional person, bad at dealing with negative experiences, and generally a kind soul.

Aileen Morrison, Cailean’s mother, 44 years old, elementary school teacher. While she loves her family and students, she can be very strict and vengeful, knows how to stay calm in difficult situations, and often keeps her emotions to herself.

Alfred Morrison, Cailean’s brother, 24 years old, investment banker. Although he was wild in his youth, he’s hardworking and cunning, and while usually perceived as friendly, he has well-hidden sharp edges and a ruthless nature.

Choices will determine which talent you are proficient in, while some increases might be obvious, others are hidden behind story-progression.

You can’t fail skill-checks, instead they will change the story depending either on which talent you are most versed in, or if you are generally lacking - and they might have an impact on how other characters feel about you.

The game is in active development. Planed additions include more visual elements, incidental music, and a compendium that tracks information the player has found (coming in the Chapter 1 update). As a solo dev who does everything by himself, music and visuals are not my priority and will be included only in major updates.

[randomuser678]

I love how most Batman villains have a genderbend version of them, specially bc as a trans woman I want to read into them being trans

Like, the Ventriloquist's design is of a mild mannered boring looking man who contrasts with his puppet Scarface who's much more rude and greedy, it feels like Scarface is a way for his ventriloquist to express his more rude side while distancing himself from them.

Now on my read where she's a trans woman there would be two layers of repression here, Ventriloquist personified her "masculine" side into the puppet who acts like a stereotypical tough guy, a rude bossy mafia leader, and she became a sexy trophy wife for him, this way she separates herself from the undesirable masculine traits, as well as becoming a love interest to a man who makes all the decisions for her, she only exists to support him, she finally made it to cisnormative and heteronormative ideals of femininity! It comes off as a tragic clinging to idealized femininity and male approval on a way I really relate to.

Clayface also has a really good portrayal of Dysphoria since in the versions I've seen they're an actor who hates their own face and got into a drug that would make their face easy to remold, then it went horribly wrong and now their entire body is moldable, Lady Clayface didn't have to change that general backstory for it to work at all, and the theme of beauty is common on female villains, but tbh I love this one specifically because of the trans read being more obvious, and this is the one case where a character didn't have to change backstories at all for the female version, she can still be a former actor with dysphoria that later gains shapeshifting powers, it's almost a happy ending for her now that she can change her shapes even if it's still tragic.

Calendar girl has a similar theme (Although she's both a version of Calendar man but also The Manikin) where she's a former celebrity who's horrified by her appearance under the mask and is "aging out" of her career, her attacking themed on holidays is both a mockery of her job as a model and needing to keep up with trends and also to show her resentment towards the passage of time, it's a really fun mix of characters and my trans read of her would be similar to Clayface. Also how youth and beauty is valued in society as a whole and older trans people in general are ignored on the mainstream.

And because the comic book world is really hostile towards genderbends (see Oswald from the newest Batman cartoon) a lot of them have instead characters who co-exist with their male counterparts, that was the case for the Ventriolquist since she just took the role from the previous one, but sometimes they do what they did here:

Madame Crow is part of the Victim Syndicate, a group of people who were victims of different villains and now resent Batman for not saving them, their powers are now ironic mirrors to the characters they were victimized by, and on Madame Crow's case, where she was a victim of the fear toxins from the Scarecrow, she made toxins that completely rid a person of any fear or self-preservation. And idk the fact that she wants to create something that gets rid of fears and repression just comes off as queer to me even though it was obviously not intentional, it's just that on a version where she IS the Scarecrow I would love how thematically fitting it all is.

I've seen pieces about how Batman is inherently queer bc super heroes and villains as a whole empower themselves through creating an alternative persona on an over the top camp way that's basically drag.

Some male villains have female sidekicks, Sugar and Spice, Query and Echo, and I guess those are harder to read as female personas of the same character like how I've been doing, but idk, you can rewrite the stories however you like to make these work, maybe twoface is bigender and flips a coin to decide which gender they're going with, that would be on theme. You can do anything ever with these characters.

Also I never understood why ppl were mad about Oswalda, every version of Batman changes backstories around, why is changing a character's gender or whatever completely out of line with that they've already been doing for decades? Anyways I'm trans and this is all.

[see-arcane]

Well. I just read the Robert Eggers Nosferatu (2024) script in its nascent 2016 form. Quick and haunted thanks to @nosferattusx2 for making me aware of its existence. It’s here on the Internet Archive if you want to give it a look yourselves.

I don’t know if it’s legit, but it seems precariously close to the trailers. Even if it is the real thing, it’s also an eight-year-old rendition of the script, so there’s no guarantee of it being an exact mirror of what will hit theaters. That being said?

It’s. A lot.

SPOILERS BELOW

I won’t regurgitate the whole thing here, just the main bits that stood out to me for better or worse:

For a guy who says he's very against the sexy romantic vampire trope, Eggers makes sure to have everyone getting scared and horny over Orlok at every opportunity. I will give him grudging kudos for not confining this strictly to Ellen or otherwise Just the Ladies~. The thing opens on Knock stroking himself to the concept of the guy and Thomas gets his own erotic/assault-flavored attack from Orlok at the castle with future allusions framing it in a distinctly sexual framework. Ellen is set up as the ~darkly tempted Eve to Orlok’s Adam~ but it’s not aggressively mega-hetero about it. Progress?

Thomas arrives in Orlok territory and immediately gets swarmed and pickpocketed by smelly-masculine Romani people (referred to strictly by the g word through the script) bar the one pretty young teenage girl one who we later get to see riding naked on a horse because only naked virgin girls can lead the group to hidden vampires for their destruction. Yeah.

…

Bobby Egg, I can get behind the VVitch using seductive evil weirdness and I see why mermaids would swim around topless, but. What the fuck? And also follow-up what the fuckery to the whole portrayal of these guys, period? On that note.

Here we see the first example of Thomas being Assigned Twink at Comparison to All the Other Men. Eggers frames him as insecure beside the masculine Romani and has a future character refer to him as a ‘dandy’ (despite that being a term reserved for men who were well-off, not just effeminate/less than manfully manful). To Bobby Egg’s slight credit, Thomas is not portrayed negatively or milksop-shaped because of this; it’s just. Kind of there. All the time.

Count Orlok’s description isn’t bad. Very ominous, very classic gothic-supernatural. I do appreciate that he’s explicitly given more corpse-like attributes, making him seem like a mobile cadaver more than anything else. And Eggers does keep him creepy—no stealthy Count Fuckula spit-shining on him.

Shovel scene sort of happens as an original Dracula nod, but with no payoff. An attempt was made and thrown away.

Ellen. Oh, Ellen. Such a double-edged piece of work here. On the one hand, this version of the script implies that she isn’t doing the classic bastardized Mina thing of deciding her lame lameo human husband isn’t good enough for her and she needs herself a REAL MAN. There’s a lot of the original Thomas and Ellen’s genuine love and regard shown in the couple…

…up to a point. Eggers writes them a very very ugly and basically wholly OOC argument to do with Thomas claiming he wed her out of pity and saying she ought to have been sent to a madhouse when she was young, which itself was a follow-up to Ellen yelling that Orlok’s work is all his fault in a weirdly victim-blamey way and a scene that felt less like a badly done seduction and more like she was trying to actually assault him. They seemingly both reconcile after this, but like…what the entire hell?

Okay, to get this out of the way—I think Eggers is trying to lean hard into the ‘well in the actual time and place of the story things would be so grimdark and depressing, so it has to be nasty even between the loving main couple, and it adds to the horror-misery of it all, and it makes Ellen’s dark temptation~ more reasonable!’ thing. We can see a lot of that in how he sets Ellen up to have a history of dark thoughts, a lot of stigma surrounding her sanity/insanity, and there’s some very cruel medical ‘treatment’ she gets subjected to during her fits while waiting for Thomas and/or Orlok to arrive. Naturally those fits are all sexual/orgasmically twitchy because of course. Eggers is very much trying to set Ellen up as sympathetic in her situation and as a kind of next evolution to the Francisified Mina character who wants to fuck Dracula/Orlok/Death so so bad~

And then we get to the Van Helsing stand-in, Von Franz, and he is…oh man. 90% of his bits are fun. Interesting. The last 10% would make Abraham van Helsing in every iteration punch through the fourth wall and beat him to death with their library books. Surprise, Von Franz and Ellen both secretly colluded to set up the sunrise trap that will inevitably kill Ellen via Orlok feeding on her into the dawn. Von Franz purposefully leads the vampire hunter crew astray, including Thomas. When Thomas discovers this—from Knock who he mistakenly staked in Orlok’s place due to a mix-up with the coffin—Von Franz laughs as Thomas and Dr. Sievers the pseudo-Jack Seward make a run back to the house to try and save her.

The climax comes with Ellen and Orlok playing out the original Nosferatu ending. She dies happily cradling Orlok’s carcass. Thomas reaches her bedside and collapses in despair. The script closes on Von Franz showing up with a lilac bouquet and putting his hand on Thomas’ shoulder as he grieves, still unmoved from the bedside. Close on Ellen’s dead face ‘at peace.’

Somehow the scene doesn’t end with Thomas wringing Von Franz’ neck.   

There’s a lot more to read in there, obviously, but those were just all the big lumps sticking out of it to me.

I will grudgingly say it is not the absolute worst-case scenario I was afraid of. It’s not what I was hoping for—but that is keeping in line with Dracula and Nosferatu-adjacent media, per tradition. I do still want to see the film, I do want to like the finished product, even with the worrisome second trailer and sundry interviews throwing up red flags. Like The Last Voyage of the Demeter, it is at least an earnest attempt at taking this vein of classic gothic vampire horror seriously as a horror story.

But also.

I would really like directors to stop turning the Mina-Ellen figure into the vampire-pining gothic blowup doll for the latest ‘Bold and Subversive’ take #1654237 of GIRL AND THE DRACULA DO KISSY SEXY ROMANCE TIMES. An impossible dream, I guess.   

[irisbleufic]

The shade you’re throwing @ intersexist assholes in the tags on the IWTV story you finished today have me crying with laughter and also applauding, but I also feel mad on your behalf that something probably brought that on. Was someone a dick to you? It’s been a bad year for what y’all in the intersex community have had to put up with what with the Olympics, I can imagine :|

Hey, much appreciated, anon 💙 It has been a bad year for that, yeah. I’m not so much bent out of shape as annoyed about something that’s potentially intersexist in tone (see under the cut, where I try to pick it apart a bit) that I saw a while ago when I looked through the notes people have left on series-level Caldera bookmarks.

I sometimes forget that people leave annotations for themselves and others, and one in particular sort of made me blink and wonder who the fuck else might be reading and making themselves miserable by sticking around and reading content they could have so easily avoided and, you know, not bothered to bookmark? IDK, man, why not just bookmark the single story or stories you liked early on rather than bookmark the whole series to bitch about something the writer is examining at the intersection of gender identity and biological sex variations (especially when that’s something the writer reckoned with over time themself, and which plenty of other intersex people reckon with, too). Anyway, the weird AF note in question:

Like, I mean…okay? Thanks? Glad you liked a bunch of it, whatever that means, but gender identity and biological sex variations are running themes for half or more of stories in the series at this point, and not just for Armand (there are three characters for whom this is relevant, one of whom is canonically intersex in the novels, but whose portrayal has never quite sat well with me given the similarities to how intersex athletes are treated in the media—Petronia from Blackwood Farm; any other treatment of her/his/their monstrosity would’ve been brilliant, because, you know, fucking vampires, but it definitely crosses a line that plays into an awful stereotype). Getting back to Armand, though, the last sentence of this note is hilarious to me. In my stories, he doesn’t even change the pronouns he’s using even if, armed with new knowledge about himself, he’s also acknowledging a level of gender fluidity that he might not have been comfortable explicitly articulating and fully exploring before. I have a soft spot for writing about genderfluid/nonbinary characters who use he/him pronouns alongside the other ones I write about who tend to use they/them pronouns. There’s a relative lack of he/him gender-nonconforming characters in fiction, in my experience, so I have a few of those running around in fic across my fandoms. Given the fact that Armand’s pronouns haven’t changed here, this reader could pretty easily have just ignored everything else. I don’t even think Armand as I’m writing him is terribly offended by anyone who still calls him a man on days where he’s more masculine-presenting in the way he dresses, and there are still plenty of those. The bookmark comment feels sillier and sillier the more I dig into it through the lens of close reading my own text, and the discomfort feels a lot more like it’s down to the intersex theme than the gender identity theme even though the two are connected in the narrative.

If you find the existence of intersex people trying to work out their gender identity in fiction triggering, I regret to inform you that this is something that happens all the time in real life. And that you might hear about it, because we do talk about it. So, pro tip: heed the fic tags and consider not bitching about it where the author is going to see that and then just double down on being a thorn in your side, and anyone else’s who thinks like you, by writing even more about it.

[berivan-noctisia]

I am thinking about posting at some point of time analysis of certain characters or certain elements from Bride Stories that interest me. I'd like to re-read it from the beginning and observe in more details the different protrayals of (marital) love, how relationships can be thought of and constructed, how gender is taught and performed as well as highlight narrative choices (such as showing much more positive love relationships than abusive ones even though they ought to be common at the time). I think it's fascinating to see how love is showed through little actions that vary greatly and how it helps to characterize different chracters and how it echoes or breaks traditional gender norms. And just general thoughts I'd have while reading.

I think it's just so interesting to see how Karluk's and Amir's clan's structure were build and how it affects them and their relationship (see how Karluk's father chastizes him for not being mainly enough and worrying Amir even though he's still a child, to how Amir encompasses both very feminine and masculine traits, in opposition to other women in her new village and how it worsens Karluk's confidence even if he does not want her to change), or how Pariya feels like she just can't fit the norms even if she aspires to be a good wife, how the twins cry and grieve when they have to leave their family even if they are still close, or how Smith apprehends his relationship with Talas and how his upbringing, personality and position as a the younger son shapes his experiences differently from that of his brother, the portrayal of nudity and sexual intimacy in the story, or simply the different desires and preferences portrayed (from Bekhe's uncompromising criteria based on traditional harsh masculine traits to Talas' fondness for Henry's softness and vulnerability etc.), characters are simply not looking for the same thing and I think it's interesting to take the time and observe it.

If you have any thoughts, remarks or elements that particularly touched you in the story I would love to read about it ! <3 I would also love to know if you'd be interested to read my posts and if you'd have any elements you'd like to see mentioned perhaps ? Thank you <3

[crusherthedoctor]

A guide on how to draw Trudy "officially".

Over the years, Trudy has received the occasional fanart, and I can never be grateful enough for every last one of them. <3 However, possibly due to not being an artist myself (unless you count purposefully terrible MSPaint doodles), I sometimes get asked what her intended reference is supposed to be. As in, how is she officially meant to translate in the Yuji Uekawa style alongside the other Sonic cast members.

In the past, I've been hesitant to clarify because truth be told, I don't care too deeply about every detail being completely accurate in fanart: I'm always perfectly satisfied and delighted to see how artists handle her regardless, no matter their spin on it. You wanna make her even taller? Go right ahead. :D You wanna make her hair reach further down? Knock yourself out. :D Boots going all the way up to her thighs? Hehe long leg horsie. :D But since it's something I've been asked more than once, I feel it's about time that I finally give a rundown for those who are interested in keeping her proportions, colours, facial expressions, and other such features canon-adjacent, so to speak.

I'll be numbering my points, because bullet points always seem to get smushed together no matter how I space them, which never fails to aggravate me lol. There's a lot to go over, but I hope I've compiled and summarized them as conveniently as possible. ^^ Alright, now let's make like a Mach Speed secton and go:

1. Trudy's official height is 3'06". For comparison, Rouge is 3'05", and Sonic himself is 3'03". (Originally Trudy was shorter than Rouge, but since Trudy remaining tall in spite of her condition is already a thing, it just felt right this way the more I thought about it.)

2. Trudy's shade of green is much more softer and minty than most green characters in the franchise (Vector, Jet, Scourge, Scourge With A Vagina, etc), as a harsher shade would clash with her portrayal.

3. The rule for her clothing:

Darker blue = headscarf + bandana Medium blue = top + boots Lighter blue = gloves + boot cuffs Brown = breeches + glove cuffs

4. Her muzzle and inner ears are peach, but lighter and more pale than other characters who have peach for those features.

5. Speaking of the ears, they're a teensy bit bigger than Sonic's, but not by much. They're also more rhombus-shaped by comparison.

6. She has five bangs in total, though it may often look like four due to her headscarf.

7. Her eye shape is exactly as it's presented in the image below. The general shape is tsurime, similar to Blaze, but rounder and softer to convey Trudy's personality, and how despite the rough experiences she went through while growing up, they haven't changed her kind heart. Her eyelashes and their length are also exactly as they appear here.

...also, while she's commonly depicted with half-lidded eyes, they're NOT like that all the time like in Rouge and Vanilla's case. Her eyes are fully open in her default state like most of the cast, she's just prone to half-lidded eyes due to her tender demeanour.

And of course, her sclera is NOT the usual white. :P It might look white from afar, but upon closer inspection, it's actually a very subtle light blue. This is often an effect of EDS in real life, so I figured it would be a good way of conveying it visually within the specific framework of a Sonic character. Meanwhile, the shade of brown used is much more warm than cool.

8. She actually has a little boop for her nose (complete with the two nostrils in place of the traditional black dot), it's just not obvious when looking at her from the front, like a mind trick of sorts. It's easier to notice from the side or from other particular angles, like so.

9. There's no easy way of putting this, so I'm gonna come right at ya with it: Trudy does indeed have breasts. Not as overt as Rouge (I say that out of endearment, not out of Bumblekast-flavored contempt), but it's there all the same to indicate she's a bit older than Amy and Cream.

10. Likewise, her legs are on the thick side. Again, more subtly so than Rouge, but still notable when compared to the pipe frames of Amy, Cream, Blaze, etc. And yes, just like horses in real life, she also has a prominent... er, behind, but this too is not quite as blatant as Rouge, since her top tends to obscure some of it, at least when standing up.

11. Her tail reaches down to just above her feet, and can be used to convey some of her emotions, such as slowly swaying when happy, or raising ever so slightly to show her contempt towards a villain. The joke is that she's "politely" telling them they can kiss her ass.

12. Her ponytail reaches down to her back, and in its default state, it forms an S-shape. It's also so close to her back that it may look as though the top and bottom alike are fully glued to her lol. It's not, obviously, but it's another mind trick per say. The height and width of the big upper half are near-equal, for maximum roundness. :3

...however, when she's in motion, be it mild or major, the ponytail can react accordingly in order to convey said motion. This never needs to be portrayed super realistically, what matters is that it looks cute and/or amusing. :3 :3 :3

Basically, if you're familiar with the Shantae franchise, and you know how animated the titular protagonist's ponytail can get, you can play around just as much with Trudy's ponytail.

13. Her gloves are just like Rouge's gloves: they go above her elbows, and fit her arms smoothly even with the small triangular gap on the brown cuffs. They're very much intended to invoke the feeling of classic princess gloves, to contrast the tomboy aspects of her attire.

14. Trudy's boots are yet another mind trick: while they technically go up to her knees like Amy's boots, they end up looking as long as Rouge's boots due to Trudy having longer legs than Amy. :P As for the feet, while they may seem similarly shaped to Amy's boots from a brief glance, the toes have recently been mildly altered to be a little more visually distinct and to reflect Trudy being older than Amy, so the toes are slightly longer and pointed now, as seen below. Despite this, they still lack heels, because heels are a no-no for Trudy's sensitive hooves.

15. Despite her bandana seemingly appearing smaller than her face when she's not using it, it somehow covers the entire lower half of her face perfectly fine like a ninja mask when she is using it. What sorcery is this??? Same reason Amy can pull her hammer out of thin air. Cartoon logic, deal with it.

16. As you can see in the second image above, Trudy's top has a window, which can be easy to overlook since you normally only see it when she has her bandana up. And on the subject of her top, as you may have noticed in a few images earlier, the top also has two small triangular cuts at the bottom of both her sides.

17. As for other details that are normally concealed by her clothing, her body has some pale peach that matches her muzzle and inner ears: it starts exactly at her *ahem* chest, and goes down across the middle portion of her front, ending where the stomach ends. Her feet - or rather, her hooves - resemble the typical round and toeless texture of most Sonic characters, except they're grey, with a little bit of fluff over them like so.

18. Trudy can certainly show a wide range of facial expressions, even playful and silly ones that you might not expect from her, but even so, they are always presented in a dignified and restrained manner. She's also not the type to lose her temper outright, preferring Tranquil Fury, so you won't be seeing her gnashing her teeth madly.

In other words, if Trudy shows visible disgust towards Eggman and his nefarious ways, she would not pull a Jack Nicholson Joker grimace ala Tracy Yardley's Sonic while doing so. She would much rather turn her head a little to the side and turn her nose up at him all proper-like.

19. And finally, simply put, the design of her trusty bow is as it appears here:

...and her whip, in its finalized form, can easily be described as being able to extend like a regular whip, while the handle resembles a rapier handle.

Bonus Fun Fact: During the very early stages of Trudy's design, I considered giving her a cape that reached down to just below the knees, so as to fit her unique mix of refined-yet-quirky. It wasn't super-detailed or anything, it was simple enough, but elegant nonetheless. However, I decided against it due to fears of it potentially making the design too cluttered, and also thinking about Trudy's design not causing inconvenience if she were actually playable in a game.

That said, I still think about it from time to time, as while it may not be part of her finalized attire, I still think a cape could look endearing on her, partly due to an old comic by Skaru, so if anyone wants to try their hand at drawing her with one, that's perfectly fine with me. :> Plus, with those who already accuse Trudy of being a Whisper ripoff, despite Trudy existing long before IDW Sonic in general was even a thing, it'd be a funny way of baiting them lmao.

And that's about it, assuming I don't remember something else five seconds after uploading this post! So for any artists who prefer to draw her with her "canon" proportions and whatnot, I hope this guide is able to help. ^^ Credit for all the art used in this post goes to: @skaruresonic @star-stages @nuncadisponible @sonikkuruzu @eva-of-the-sea @thespeedhighway @aquillis-main @la-nom-nom @latias-eevee-hatori

[pvffinsdaisies]

Ireland Headcanon Masterpost

Artwork drawn by @nordickies

Part three of creating master posts for my interpretation of certain characters & nations. This time we’re doing the lovely miss Ireland! Who has been occupying my mind a lot recently. Before we get into it, I want to say that I have not been developing Ireland for even half as long as I have been every other character I have. She’s been a floating concept in my mind for years, but I only actually started to develop her properly last month. For most of the time I’ve had her, she’s just been a pretty face and a name, and I’ve been having so much fun actually exploring her. If you enjoy reading her information, I’ve also made posts for Scotland and my OC of Northumbria, both of those posts are going to be much longer than this one is.

I want to emphasise that I am no history expert, and I do not even wish to be associated with historical hetalia. However, as I am from England, it means I am treading a very fine line with my portrayal. That being said, if anyone from Ireland sees this post and takes issue with anything I say here, I encourage you to reach out and correct me! I am still learning, and, as I’ve said before, my portrayal is still very new.

PHYSICAL

Ireland stands at about 5’5, or about 165cm. Making her about the average height for an Irish woman. She still gets teased by Scotland for being “short.”

She has pretty small features. Small, green eyes, a tiny little button nose, and a small mouth with thin lips. She is very pretty, but she still looks quite approachable.

She has long, beautiful ginger hair. It’s pretty wavy, her natural texture is 2c, but she styles it pretty often. Her siblings have always loved to tease her about her hair- the colour and texture- so she’s pretty insecure about it.

She’s very good at styling her hair because of this, though she’s no longer a massive fan of fancy up does. She insists she’s no good on hair that isn’t her own, but she taught most of her siblings how to do at least a plait growing up.

Ireland is covered in freckles, from head to toe.

Her skin is naturally very pale, but it’s also very sensitive, and can turn red pretty easily. She always has to be careful about the stuff she puts on, or else she’ll come out in a rash.

She has a tooth gap between her two front teeth, it represents the River Shannon, the longest river in Ireland.

She has a rectangle body shape, although she used to be a bit curvier when she was younger.

Once rounder and softer, her body still hasn’t returned to how it looked before the potato famine of the 1800s. Her size is far healthier now, but she’s still quite thin and boney. Ireland is not her ideal size, and wishes she could gain a bit more weight to feel more comfortable.

That being said, her bottom is actually pretty plump. Representing the mountains that lie around the edge of Ireland.

Whilst she does like to wear make up every now and then, she’s actually pretty bad at it. Her application can be patchy, and she’s not the best at matching shades. It’s nothing you’ll notice straight away, however, and she genuinely does feel prettier when she wears it.

She has the Triskelion, or the Celtic Spiral Knot, tattooed on the inside of her upper, right arm. The symbol has different meanings depending on who you ask, but she had it tattooed to represent the continuous of life, and moving forward. It was also just a way for her personally to show that she will never, ever let her culture be stripped from her.

PERSONALITY

Ever the extrovert, Ireland is friendly and welcoming to everyone she meets. She has a natural ease about her, and a remarkable ability to make people comfortable around her quickly. Within 2 sentences, you could easily feel as though you’ve known her your entire life. Like you’re laughing and joking with an old friend.

Much like her brother, Scotland, Ireland is remarkable at comedy and making people laugh, she firmly believes a good sense of humour goes a long way. Her humour is a bit more lighthearted and witty than the rest of her siblings.

Ireland shows her affection through teasing and sarcasm. It’s how she jokes with her friends, and the more she teases you, the more she likes you. It could come across as mean, but her tone is usually playful enough to not cause harm.

Her culture truly means everything to her, and she loves sharing it with people. She actually loves meeting tourists, she loves telling them stories of her people, and she actually isn’t opposed to sharing her past with them. She will proudly gives them ideas of other places in Ireland to visit, and things to do, she hopes that everyone who takes the time to come visit leaves happy and smiling, having had a fun, interesting and informative experience.

However, she is also extremely protective and defensive of herself, her culture and her past. After years of oppression, being ignored and spoken over, who can blame her? She isn’t too appreciative when someone speaks on her behalf, she doesn’t like other’s sharing information without consulting her directly. She is vocal, and not afraid to step up and correct people, and put them in their place.

Empathy is where Ireland truly shines. Easily feeling and immediate connection with and understanding for those going through hardship. She will always be an advocate for the underdog, for those whose voices are not being properly heard. She longs to provide the compassion, and the feeling of having someone in your corner, that she lacked when she was suffering.

That being said, she can be very judgmental, and she’s a huge gossiper. She usually attempts to soften it by saying something like “and, god love them” or “god, bless their heart” or “but who am I to judge?” as though she’s not just been talking shit for the past hour.

Ireland cannot hide her feelings, and she doesn’t see the need to. She’s very open when she’s happy, upset, angry etc.

For as open a person as she can be, she still hasn’t quite processed her hurt and her negative feelings correctly. Choosing to brush it off, and pretend she no longer cares. She can grow very resentful because of this, but she absolutely refuses to accept this may be a problem.

Ireland can be feisty and fiery if need be, she knows how to defend herself and she will! She’s never been shy, no matter what, and she won’t let someone walk all over her. She never has, and she never will go down without a fight. She prides herself on this.

Ireland is extremely laid back, she’s not prone to jealousy or possessiveness, and she’s certainly not over-protective about anything. She doesn’t see the point of trying to cling onto someone, it all just seems pointless.

HOBBIES

Ireland is creative mind, and one of her best skills is gold-smithing and her ability to work with metals. She prefers to make her own jewellery, and she loves making fancy and intricate broaches especially. However, she mainly does smaller projects now, as her workshop is merely a cleared out space in her basement. She’d love to find a bigger place to rent out.

You will rarely ever find someone who’s a better storyteller than Ireland, she truly has a way with words. Be it short stories, poems or songs, she excels at it. She absolutely loved to share her stories with her siblings when they were growing up.

Music means a lot to Ireland, she wouldn’t know who she is without it, and as well as writing songs, she also sings. She doesn’t have the best voice, but it’s pretty and melodic. It’s soft and calming, and she has fine technic. But it’s certainly nothing special.

She also plays the harp, which she’s very skilled with.

Ireland loves a party and celebration, and she always goes all in. She seemingly never gets tired, or never needs to go home to rest, she can just keep going.

On a calmer note, she also loves just sitting in a pub and having a few casual drinks. Doesn’t need to be a celebration. She especially loves a proper Irish bar, and she almost has a sixth sense where she can find one wherever she goes.

Speaking of bars, Ireland is pretty good at snooker. She’s no hobbyist though. She and Scotland are at pretty much an equal level, and they’re the only two in the family who stand a chance of beating one another.

She loves a good walk around the countryside, and she’s always driving out of the city to have a stroll. Though she will constantly complain about the sheep blocking the road.

She does boxing, though she’s still a very low level beginner, and definitely not good enough to go up against anyone yet. It was a hobby she picked up a few years back, to try and help her build some strength and muscle.

As well as sharing her own, Ireland absolutely loves taking the time to learn about other cultures of the world too. Every time she has a meeting in a foreign country that she doesn’t visit too often, she tries to see and do as many cultural things as she can outside of work. She absolutely loves travelling.

She adores animals, she firmly believes they’re smarter than humans give them credit for, and she loves to draw them! She’s not the most skilled artist, she really only does sketch work in a sketch book. She rarely attempts to colour in, or smooth out the lines.

Ireland’s favourite, and her comfort show, is Father Ted, she puts it on whenever she’s upset. Without fail, it will always make her laugh, even if she’s seen every episode about 1000 times already.

Ireland enjoys knitting, alongside some of her other family members. She pretty much exclusively knits all of her own cardigans herself.

LIFESTYLE

Ireland uses the human name Saoirse O’Reilly, spelt as Saoirse Ní Raghallaigh in Irish.

However, Saoirse hasn’t always been Ireland’s preferred name. She used to use the name Aoibheann, but during English rule she was forced to take on the name Evelyn Kirkland. After Ireland gained its independence, Saoirse started being used more and more as a name because of its meaning being “freedom”. She has used Saoirse as her name ever since.

Irish is her first language, and she is determined to help keep the language alive. She offers tutoring lessons for people (Irish or not) to learn the language. Unfortunately, she’s not the best at teaching.

Alongside Irish, she also knows English, ISL (Irish Sign Language), Latin and BSL (British Sign Language). She knows a little bit of Manx and Scottish Gaelic.

Saoirse currently lives in Dublin. She used to own a farmhouse, but following independence she decided it’d be best to move to the city. She sometimes misses her old house, and you’ll catch her reminiscing on it. She doesn’t hate city life, though.

She is incredibly family oriented. If you ask Saoirse, family always has and always should come first. As the oldest, she helped raise all her siblings the best she could. She always felt closest to Northern Ireland and Scotland when they were growing up, and whilst she & Scotland are still close to this day, things with N. Ireland have been better. Their relationship has recently been… strained, to put it nicely. Saoirse is still waiting for the day when they can be close again. She never has and never will stop reaching out.

Ireland does not have any pets. However, for most of her life, she had a Wolf friend who would always find its way back to her no matter where she travelled. She did not own this wolf, it was free and was part of a pack, however, it was supposedly immortal, like many hetalia pets. It was killed in the 1700s. Ireland has a picture of it that she drew herself hung up in her living room.

In terms of religious beliefs, Saoirse would describe herself as “Catholic Pagan.” She might get some strange looks from foreigners who hear this term, but her religious beliefs combine both Catholicism and Celtic Paganism. She believes in the Lord, and in Jesus, but also believes in and sees traditional folk creatures. She seeks guidance and truth in tales from both religions.

Out of all of her siblings, Ireland is probably the worst driver. She usually is not in front of the wheel when someone else is in the car, because they don’t feel entirely safe in the car when she drives.

Saoirse is so bad when it comes to procrastination. She’s perhaps too laid back in that aspect. She doesn’t like to rush anything, and will continue to push back things she needs to do until she can actually be bothered. If anyone calls her out on it, she’ll blame the weather, saying something like, “have you seen how it’s raining out there? It’s not fit to do anything!”

She has a small fairy friend who lives at the bottom of her garden, named Órlaith, who likes to sneak inside the house and cause trouble when Saoirse isn’t in. Otherwise, you can sometimes see her fluttering above her shoulder. It’s not uncommon for the pair of them to gossip together about certain people they meet.

You’ll never not see her without a cup of tea. She perhaps has too much of it, drinking multiple cups at home, and taking some out with her in a travel mug if she’s going somewhere. If she’s visiting someone, she’ll be sat waiting to be offered a cup of tea. She drinks the most out of the whole family, which drives england nuts. She’ll get grumpy if she doesn’t have a cup of tea on a morning.

[utilitycaster]

1. Why do you like or dislike this character? - Percy and/or Keyleth?

I like both of them, so:

I like Percy for the surface reasons of intelligence and witty comebacks and the general Taliesin Jaffe Arrogant Guy Is Confidently Wrong About Many Things reasons, but more specifically I like how incredibly aware he is of social structures and doesn't dismiss them as stupid or fake or meaningless just because he is aware how much artifice is involved. I love how much he validates Vex in this, as someone who's been on the other side of that social divide most of her life and who knows she "shouldn't" care but does, deeply. It would be so easy for him to say "look, titles are stupid and fake, I should know, I have one," but instead he says "no, I see what this means to you, because yes it's all an accident of birth and yes it is kind of stupid and fake, but it's also the reason why you lived rough for your teens and early 20s, and you are not silly for wanting this security." I also think he's a great exploration of guilt and of someone who has a lot of complicated feelings from the gods but does value their counsel; we don't get a lot of characters with that sort of nuance. His scene with the Raven Queen remains a standout for me and for all he can be melodramatic and obnoxious at times, he is also like 25, traumatized, and should be at the club. I think the question he answers (why would someone invent the gun) is an interesting one, and I think the way that his story ends up with the obvious inevitable happening and yet he still finds happiness is unexpected and wonderful to see.

I like Keyleth for a lot of reasons people will probably be annoyed about, which is...she is annoying. Annoying women: may we know them, may we be them, and may we raise them. Anyway, I think her terror of doing the wrong thing at the cost of doing anything sets up a fantastic arc for someone who is expected to become a leader. I admire how she knows she's not the most eloquent and is scared of her responsibilities but does not back down from speaking up when she disagrees with the party. I like how she's perhaps the only example of lifespan angst that is actually portrayed as making a lot of sense, especially since she is also extremely young (probably shouldn't be at the club given the bar crawling results. She should be at ZooLights and have like, one cider.) I think in general her fears are incredibly real and make sense for the character and shape her, and that's not something you see portrayed with this amount of depth very often. I stuck with the VM-era portrayal of Percy but I will say I especially love how Keyleth is portrayed in Campaign 3, because Percy hasn't changed a ton in adulthood, merely mellowed out a little, but Keyleth very much has as she's grown in confidence, as she was only at the beginning of that during the Campaign. I think her relationship with Vax is incredibly good for both of them; her sense of belonging to a place and his ability to support. I do like that she gets angry, especially after so much time being insecure, but I feel much has been made of her anger and I don't have a ton to add there, and also while I like that she is angry and expresses it, there are other characters I gravitate to for that specifically. Also I have incredible respect for her having to take on a much bigger magical burden than expected; I have said this before but my longest-running character was in a campaign where the player playing sorcerer switched to ranger, and the cleric left, leaving me as the only full caster and primary healer (though thankfully we got a baller paladin shortly after). The fact that Keyleth had to, and could, be whatever the party needed mechanically was a godsend. I know VM died a lot but they would have died like 20 times more without her and Scanlan and especially without her.

[wildernessuntothemselves]

You Are My Queen Now | Part 12

Word Count: 14k

Genre: Smut, angst, fluff

Summary: Growing up as a child of a minor lord, you had it instilled in you since a young age that you needed to find yourself a rich and affluent husband that would not only provide a comfortable life for you, but would also help further your family’s position in the court. So it was of the utmost importance that you remain a virgin in order to land such a coveted husband.

The problem lies when the man you secretly love, Prince Beomgyu, suddenly and unabashedly propositions you.

Warnings: fingering, cunnilingus, overstimulation, missionary degradation, sub!gyu, dom!gyu, sub!oc, dom!oc, breeding kink, inaccurate portrayal of an old wedding, oc has a mini panic attack, knife and blood play, self harm and harming others, mentions of past rape, slapping, smothering gyu with your pussy lmao, pregnancy, extremely unhealthy relationship dynamics, manipulative characters, mentions of and justifications of rape and blaming someone for their own rape.

It’s been about a month since Beomgyu officially declared war on Taehyun. 

Beomgyu doesn’t tell you much about the war but from what little he’s told you and what you’ve gathered, Taehyun’s wasn’t doing good. Even though he has gathered more allies now other than Ryujin’s father, like Lord Seojin who joined up with him after that disastrous meeting and Heejin’s family who turned against Beomgyu after she got kicked out of court, as well as their various associates, but the best they can do right now is merely hold their ground. 

Beomgyu doesn’t seem concerned about the war or the loss of some of his allies. Instead, he focuses on strengthening his relations with the existing members of his court and continually gaining the public’s support. 

“You’ve gotten slimmer again.” You comment as you move your brush over his skin, noting how his back lost much of the bulk it had when you first saw him again. “And your hair got longer." 

You’re having your painting session with just him today. Lately, he’s been so busy with meetings and the like and so he’s using this as an excuse to spend more time with you. He had volunteered to let you use his body as a canvas and now he was laying on his stomach over a large sheet as you paint his back with vivid red colors. 

He cranes his head back and grins. "You said you loved your lanky idiotic best friend."

That’s true, and he’s starting to look like him too. But will you ever be able to see him in that way again? You know your love for him will never go away–it hasn’t even waned a little bit after everything he’s done and you’re sure even if he were to kill you, your heart would pump the last of its blood with love for him. But will you ever look at him the same way again? Will you ever trust him? Will he ever be your knight in shining armor? Will he ever be the innocent warmth you seek against the coldness of the world? 

He has hurt you too much, too much. But the gods have turned their backs on you long ago and only the devil would embrace you. He beckons to you with open arms, a soft smile and the promise of the whole world in your hands. 

And how can you refuse his bastardized gift–your fallen angel–when you incited his revolt against the gods? You’re as doomed to the fires of hell as he is, you rotten sinner. 

As the bloody strokes of paint take shape, Beomgyu tries to get a peek at what you’re painting. "Are those wounds?"

“Yes.” You confirm monotonously. "Ripped wings."

“Am I a fallen angel?” He frowns at that, the negative connotations hanging in the air. 

“The devil.” 

Beomgyu pauses for a minute, perturbed by your words. You don’t know why he always acts so surprised by them, as if he just expects you to get over everything he’s done and forgive him already. 

"I am not going to get upset by your sharp words anymore. You chose me. That tells me all I need to know." He says, hurt apparent in his voice despite his words. "You pouting and sulking is not going to save him and you know that very well. So you might as well drop it and start enjoying yourself."

He shuts his eyes and rests his head on his arms again, trying to give off the impression of nonchalance, but the way the sun hits his face illuminates his thick eyebrows with a golden glow that highlights the way they are pulled together in a small frown, and hanging in that beam of sunlight are the little frustrated puff of air he lets out, like a sullen little puppy who has been chastised. 

He’s right, however. Sulking won’t save Taehyun. You know what you should do and you refuse to do it. You feel it with every dig of the dagger into your skin as you move–the dagger Beomgyu let you have back, not because you asked for it but so that it would act as a constant reminder of how your words mean nothing. 

Because if they did, Beomgyu’s back would be stained with real blood instead of paint. 

______________________________________

You chew on your nails as you anxiously await the results of Wonyoung’s test. Your menses has been late for over a week now, when it has always been a punctual visitor every month. So what could be the cause of such uncharacteristic delay? Well, there was only one possibility at the forefront of all your minds. 

You tried to maintain denial at first. You did not even mention anything to Beomgyu about it, hoping your fears would be proven wrong with time. But it was no use. He knew your schedule better than you did and he was on you after only a day of absence. 

Of course, he had turned to Wonyoung then, excitedly asking her if this meant that you could be pregnant, but she had prudently advised him to wait a few days to see if it was just tardy.

And so you did. Those few days were some of the longest of your life, the hours of the day  seeming to stretch on forever as you awaited your fate. But there was one thing that made it better–Beomgyu presence. In fact, during those few days he hardly ever left your side, choosing to relegate his duties to Wonyoung so you wouldn’t have to wait alone. 

It was heaven and hell, just like everything that is Beomgyu. That week cut in time just for the two of you was utterly joyful, and you cherished the chance to spend entire days and nights with the love of your life, wrapped away in each other’s presence. But the circumstances of that week never escaped your consciousness–the possibility that you could be pregnant a looming cloud over your sunny paradise. 

And now is the moment of truth. 

“What is it, Wony?” Beomgyu asks, jumping out of his seat as Wonyoung gets back into the room.

Her unreadable expression was like an icy grip on your heart, and her revelation squeezes it into a tenderized pulp. “She’s pregnant.” 

Beomgyu lets out a shout of joy and takes you into his arms, twirling you around before Wonyoung promptly stops him. “What are you doing, idiot? You’ll hurt the baby!”

He jerks to a halt, apologizing profusely and jumbling his words. “I’m so sorry–I didn’t realize–I’m just so…” He trails off and looks at you with teary eyes. “I’m so happy. We’re going to have a family!”  

You get teary-eyed too, but for a different reason, and just nod, not trusting yourself to speak. But Beomgyu still notices your gloomy mood right away. “What’s wrong, baby?”

You didn’t want to say anything. It was no use. Beomgyu will do whatever he wants anyway, but you just can’t help it. You burst out crying, “My child is going to be a bastard!” 

“Oh, darling.” Beomgyu coos, cradling your head and pressing it to his chest. “Wony, leave us alone, please.” 

You sob into his chest as you hear Wonyoung walk to the door and get out before shutting it behind her. Then Beomgyu pulls your head back to brush your tears away and gives you a big smile. “Our child will never be a bastard. I promised you that, didn’t I?” 

“But–” You’re cut off as he gets onto his knees. “Marry me, baby. Be my queen.” 

You can hardly take in enough breath to form your next words. “How? People will know we lied.” 

Beomgyu smiles knowingly and kisses the backs of your hands. “Who will? The public? I can easily sell them a made up story about us finding comfort in each other after the betrayal of our spouses, and even if they don’t buy it, what are they going to do? I feed and protect them. You think they’d choose a warlord and a foreign king over me? And the nobles–most of them know the truth and don’t care. They only care about maintaining their power and riches and that idiot jeopardizes that.”  

“You have it all figured out, don’t you?” You ask bitterly, your tears drying up. Beomgyu has everything planned out, even this. From you testifying in the trial, to securing the letters, to impregnating you. He is always two steps ahead of you. 

“Does it matter?” His hands squeeze yours tightly. "Don't you want to finally be my wife? To be recognized in front of everyone? Don’t you want your child not to be a bastard?"

Once again, Beomgyu comes out on top. It's so disheartening to see how someone like him can so easily twist the narrative in his favor and squash the side of the truth under his iron boot.

If you had stayed with Taehyun or spoken out against Beomgyu, would it have made any difference or would he have silenced you too? Would he have called you crazy? Locked you up? He certainly wouldn't have been able to marry you. Would that have been a punishment for him or for you?

It's no use speculating on what would’ve happened. You can't change your mind again, every time you do something disastrous happens. You have a child now. You have to protect them. 

I'm so sorry, Taehyun.

“Okay.” You give in, trying to hold your tears in but they burst forward in a loud sob. “I will marry you.” 

But Beomgyu doesn’t dwell on your obvious turmoil, and through your tears, his wide smile looks distorted and monstrous. “This is just the beginning, my love. Soon, we’ll have everything we ever wanted.”

He pulls out the ring that he once offered you on that fateful night at the beach and puts it on you. This time, there was no escaping–your once hero soon to be struck down. 

_____________________________________

Back at your chambers, Beomgyu can’t keep his hands off you. He’d gotten so excited about the news of your pregnancy that he had to retire the both of you back to your chambers so he can have his way with you. 

“Look at you, baby.” Beomgyu murmurs, prompting you to stare at yourself in the mirror that he has you positioned in front of, bare and exposed in his arms. “You’re ethereal, exquisite. You were made for this, weren’t you?”

What is this? Being toyed with? Owned? Used? 

He spreads your pussy apart with his slim fingers–the treacherous thing puffy and wet for the taking, having surrendered itself to Beomgyu long ago. 

“You’re going to be even prettier all swollen up with our baby.” 

He rubs the pads of his fingers over your clit gently, getting you as worked up as he is and making you watch your hole pathetically clench around nothing. 

“You’re so wet.” His hand slides down to scoop some of your slick on his fingers, and in doing so making you jump as his fingers brush over your hole. 

“Oh? You want my fingers, baby?" He coos, hand sliding down again so the tip of his middle finger slips in and you squeak. You’re so fucking sensitive. You feel him chuckle against your back. “Hmm, you like that, don’t you? I already got you pregnant but you’re still so needy to get filled, huh?”

He sucks in a sharp breath as he eases a finger inside you. “So tight.” He groans, stuffing another one inside, making you gasp as you grab onto his arm. You can feel his hard cock poking against your back as pumps his fingers slowly in and out of you. “Am I not fucking you enough, pretty?”

He’s really not. Yes, he fucks you way more than Taehyun ever did, but he’s still somewhat mindful of how upset you are at him and while he’s not shy about taking you, you suspect he still holds back quite a bit. 

Despite your lack of response, Beomgyu reads your reaction clearly enough. “I’m sorry, baby. We’re going to have to remedy that, won’t we?” He purrs darkly, slamming his fingers into you, the palm of his hand smacking against your clit as he repeats that actions again and again. “Just have to loosen that tight pussy up a bit.” 

“Beomgyu…” You whine, clinging onto his arm as your legs automatically try to close against the sudden onslaught. 

“No.” He growls, using his other hand to shove your legs apart. "Keep your legs spread. Want to see your needy pussy swallowing up my fingers."

You whimper, your leg muscles tensing up as your arch onto your toes and give in to his rough ministrations. 

“Yeah, that’s it. Love it when you act like such a whore for me.” You can hear his own need in his voice, and you know he won’t be able to hold back much longer. “Come on, show me how much you need it. Spread your legs wider and put your feet in the air." 

"You're such a pervert." You gasp out even as you do as he says, letting him feast his hungry eyes on your lewd display. 

“Fuck—” He can only manage a few more pumps of his fingers before he rips them away and yanks the both of you up to your feet. 

Beomgyu carries you to the bed and lays on your back at the center where you immediately spread your legs and pull them up next to your body the way you know he likes. He hurriedly takes off his clothes before climbing onto the bed with you, but then he pauses, taking a moment to loom over you with his dick in his hand as his eyes rake up and down your body. 

“Fucking perfect.” He gives his cock a couple of jerks while his other hand finds your pussy and stuffs it with his fingers once again. “Can’t believe I get to have you like this. I’ve waited so long just to have my princess warm up my bed like this every night, all spread out on her back and waiting for me to fuck her full.” 

“Then what are you waiting for?” You mewl impatiently. You hate it when he makes you wait. It exposes you for the hypocrite you are. “Just fuck me already.” 

He bites his lip, a cheeky grin etching itself onto his face. “Oh, I will, but why don’t you whine a little more for me first?” 

Like hell you will. He’s been acting like a little shit for too long now, as if he won’t cry if you close your legs and decide to leave him high and dry. 

“No. Why don’t you be a good boy instead and fuck me before I get bored and just get myself off?” You raise up on your forearms to lend more credence to your threat, and Beomgyu doesn’t care to call your bluff, not when he’s so worked up because of the pregnancy.

“No!” He yelps, and you almost get whiplash from how fast he replaces his fingers with his cock, gasping out a little whine as he slides himself into you. “You’re so mean.” 

“Me? You’re the one who is teasing your pregnant fiance when you should be keeping me fucked and happy like you promised. Or were those just empty words?” You rile him up even more, knowing it will make him lose control and it does. 

“No. I can. I can.” He insists, his hips smacking into yours. Beomgyu hates when you imply that there is something he can’t give you, partly because of his fervent need to prove himself to you and partly because he’s so afraid you’ll look for it someplace else. Your escape really fucked him up more than he already is, and so you’re quick take back your voiced doubts or he’ll go off the rails. 

“Yeah, that’s a good boy. Show me how well you can fuck me.” You clutch onto the sheets below, holding onto them as your body jostles with every vigorous thrust of his hips against your. 

God, he’s so fucked in the head but it’s hard to think about that when his cock is filling you up just right and he’s fucking you this good. And the bastard knows it too. 

“You sound so good.” He groans happily, "Come on, whine louder for me, my needy girl."

You give him what he wants. “So good, puppy. Fucking me so good.” 

“Yeah, is this what you wanted?” Even though his question might sound domineering, you can easily detect the neediness and desperation for validation he always wants from you. 

“Uh-huh.” He barely lets you affirm before his lips are on yours, tongue greedily pushing into your mouth as he kisses you frantically. It’s so good, too good, and at times like this when the heat of it all sears your brain, you can’t think about how wrong it is to allow him these moments, to give into him so easily and willingly. 

You feel his hand rest on your belly, his fingers splaying to cover as much of it as he can, and he pulls back to murmur heatedly, “Once this baby is out, I’m going to knock you up again and again. Never going to let a night pass by when you’re not filled to the brim with me.”

“Beomgyu–”

“You want it, my queen?” He whimpers, his hips stuttering but he still drives his cock into you harshly, making you struggle to keep your eyes trained on his drunken expression. “Want my cum in that tight pussy?”

“Yes. Give it to me, puppy. I need it.” You moan, pushing him to the edge. 

His hand quickly moves down to your pussy, thumb flicking your clit earnestly to help you over the edge with him, and you scream at the sudden spike in pleasure, your pussy clamping down on his cock as it spurts inside of you. 

“I love you. I love you.” He whimpers, only able to grind against you now as your pussy milks him dry, the little movement still too much on your poor pussy and your body jolts with little spikes of overstimulation each time he moves. 

With a final jerk of his hips, he’s drained. He rests his forehead against yours and presses a soft kiss to your parched lips. “We’re going to have such a big, happy family, my queen.” 

You’re so fucked out that you can do nothing but hum as he lays down next to you and takes you in his arms, the heat of his body combining with the heat in the air to keep your poor brain feverish and blissful. 

And he keeps it that way too–with his cock firmly stuffed inside of you throughout the night. You awaken every few hours by the thrusts of his hips to find yourself in different positions on the bed–once on your side with one of your legs nudged up to allow him easy access to your pussy, once plopped onto your stomach as he takes you from behind, once with your body splayed on top of him as he pushes his cock up into your pussy… every time you would whine and he would shush you, telling you to just go back to sleep and let him do all the work. 

And so you do, happy to just lie there pliantly while he brings the both of you mind-searing pleasure that chases all your pesky worries away.

________________________________

“I have something to show you, baby.” Beomgyu tells you one morning, leading you to the room adjacent to yours. 

You have no idea why he’s taking you there. As far as you know, that room wasn’t of any particular note. But you find out as soon as you step inside, choking back your emotions as you realize why exactly he was showing it to you. 

The walls of the previously nondescript room were now painted in baby blues and soft yellows–an intricate but complimenting mix of you and Beomgyu’s favorite colors–the room decorated with masterfully sculpted furniture and filled with all kinds of toys and trinkets. There was a large bed to the side for resting and even a bookcase filled to the brim with what you just know are mounds of fairytales from all over the world. But the centerpiece of the room was the small crib colored with those same soothing blues and yellows and framed by a large white drape with a statue of an angel sitting on top of it. 

It’s a nursery. He has transformed the room into a nursery for your child, and it's fucking perfect. It’s everything you couldn’t have even dared to wish for as a kid and the fact that a child of yours–you, the lowly born lady everyone regards as Beomgyu’s whore–will have this room to call their own brings tears to your eyes. 

“Do you like it, my queen?” Beomgyu asks, but the grin on his face tells you that he already knows the answer. Of course, he does. He knows you so well, that’s how he knew to make this without you even asking.

God, how can he be so demented, yet so utterly perfect?

You throw your arms around him, pulling him into a heated embrace. “It’s perfect.” 

“Our children are not going to want for anything, you know that, right?” He promises you and you nod, kissing him. And you wish he would’ve left it there, let you enjoy this beautiful moment without reminding you of the horrors he built it with. 

“But this is just the material aspect of it. We have to be there for them too. Will you be there for them?” He asks somberly, demanding that you pledge yourself to him, that you won’t choose anyone else again.

“Yes.” You answer in a small voice. 

“I want to build a good life for them, my love, keep them safe from those who would wish to harm them. Which is why I must get rid of the complications you created. You understand that, right?” 

You hold your tears back, pressing your lips into a thin line so you wouldn’t sob, and nod. “Yes.” You pull your arms off him but he holds onto them. 

He wraps your arms around him again, and kisses your taut lips. “We’re going to be so happy.”

Happy. Is that what you look like to him? Why couldn’t he have just let you enjoy this moment? Why can’t he let you live in blissful oblivion for just a few more seconds? 

But he wants you to choose, and now you have to–choose between the love of your and the child he gave you, and the man who dared to stand up to him and show you another way. 

The answer is shamefully clear to you. You wish it was harder. You wish you would’ve struggled more with it, but you didn’t. You choose Beomgyu and the baby. You can’t let your child live the same wretched life you did. You’ll do anything you can to protect them and love them and spare them from this horrible world, and if it means playing along with the delusions Beomgyu is selling you, then so be it.  

You will try to be happy, for your children. You will raise them to be kinder, gentler, and hope they grow up to be the kind of people who will despise the likes of you.  

___________________

“How is the pregnancy going? Is the sickness too much to handle? Are you taking the herbs I’ve gave you?” Wonyoung asks you when you meet up with her for tea and a chat, referring to the bouts of vomiting you’ve been going through lately. 

“Some days it’s better, some days it’s worse.” You tell her, shrugging. “But your brother is always right next to me and he makes sure I’m drinking all the herbs and eating well.” 

She smiles in relief. “That’s good. We want this baby to be healthy and happy.” 

“We?” You ask, taken aback. “You want me to have this baby?”

When Wonyoung had told you that she wanted to talk to you alone about the baby, you had internally freaked out. You hadn’t really talked to her about it ever since she revealed the pregnancy to you and you worried about what she’d have to say. 

You’d gotten so much pushback from Kai when you married Taehyun despite his initial welcoming, and it was one of the most painful things you’ve ever gone through–to finally feel like you were accepted and wanted and protected, only to have it all ripped away from you when the actual family member is in jeopardy. 

You weren’t stupid. You knew Wonyoung's priority has to be her brother’s safety and wellbeing, and you being pregnant with his child threatens that. You know that. You expected it, and you told yourself that you can take whatever abuse she has to hurl at you, that this child was Beomgyu’s way of trapping you anyway so her opinion doesn’t matter. It’s not like you wanted it in the first place…

But then why the hell is your heart almost beating out of your chest? Why are you so scared of what she has to say? Why does Wonyoung’s acceptance or lack thereof matter so much to you? 

You know. It’s because you actually want this child. You want to be Beomgyu’s wife. You want to be accepted as part of his family, to not be treated as second class. You yearn to belong, and whether by good nature or by design, Beomgyu’s family gave you that and you’re so scared of having it ripped away from you again. That’s why his plan is so effective. He knows well just how much of a hypocrite you are. 

Stop pretending to care about them.

Wonyoung frowns. “Why, of course. Why wouldn’t I? It’s what you and Beomgyu want, isn’t it?”

“Yes but…” You trail off hesitantly. “Don’t you think it’s too risky? That people may catch on?”

Despite Beomgyu earlier reassurances, you still worry that the news of the pregnancy and the intended marriage will hurt him. That’s another proof of your hypocrisy. You can’t stand the idea of him getting hurt. 

“Oh sweetling, is that something you’ve been worrying yourself with?” She coos, taking you in her arms like her brother so frequently does and you nod shamefully. “It doesn’t matter what they think. You are having this baby and we will protect you. You’re part of our family, as is this child, and we will not let any harm come to either one of you. You’re one of us now, sweetling."

Maybe she’s telling you what you want to hear just like her brother does, but you can’t help feeling emotional. They want you. They want this baby, and they’re not going to leave you behind.   

“Wait,” You sniffle, confused. “If you didn’t call me here to tell me not to have the baby then what did you want to tell me?” 

She takes her hands off you and straightens herself up. “Okay so this is not an exact science and it’s not always correct,” She starts, looking a bit unsure of herself which is a first from the usually confident princess. “But I have done a further test on the urine sample you’ve given me and I may have an inkling of what the sex of your baby is going to be.” 

You gasp, straightening up too, and waiting for her to continue with bated breath. You don’t know if she pauses for a while or if your world just freezes around you, but eventually she speaks up. 

“It’s a baby boy.” She tells you at long last, and you gasp, but she puts her hand up to halt your reaction. “I haven’t told Beomgyu because it might not turn out to be true and I don’t want you to feel pressured about it but I thought you’d like to know.”

“I-I… Thank you, Wonnie.” You gush tearfully, overcome with emotion, and she takes you into her arms, embracing you heatedly. 

You did it. You’re going to give Beomgyu an heir. Your dreams really are coming true. 

_____________________________

Unlike Beomgyu’s family, the rest of the royal court isn’t as enthusiastic about your marriage news, with some even daring to voice their opinions about how it might weaken Beomgyu’s position in the war. But Beomgyu stands strong and firm, informing them that the wedding will take place, and that if they want to try their luck joining up with Taehyun, they’re more than welcome to. That shut them up fast. Of course it helped that he could afford to splurge to buy their silence, but he was also clear that if anyone even thought about standing in his way, there would be hell to pay. 

So with the entire royal family united, and the court more or less supportive, the wedding is announced to the public, and Beomgyu makes sure to spin a pretty picture about how all this came to be for his people.

“I know this might come as a shock to some of you, and to some it may even seem like proof of what the traitors have been saying, but I ask you to hear me out before you cast your judgements.” He beseeches his people, once again playing the innocent role to perfection. "In these turbulent times, in which both me and her have gone through one of the worst pains one can imagine - being brutally betrayed by those we loved so dearly - we came to find solace in each other, and by keeping each other's heart close we found the strength to live. That's when I realized how precious it is to have had her loyal heart my whole life. First as a friend, then family, then as a victim of circumstance I so desperately had to save... and now, surprisingly, I realize she saved me as well. I now find in her a love I thought only existed in books. I find in her the only one that could truly understand my heart, that has always been by my side, that has always seen me for who I am and that I now know will be in my heart forever.” 

“I know that this announcement might seem sudden, maybe even too soon, to some of you. But it took me my whole life to realize that happiness has always been right beside me... I could not waste another day not letting her know how much she means to me. They may have been lying when they accused us of those vile betrayals, but the gods saw fit to make truth out of those lies, to bring forth love from the hate they spewed. And If we are to die at their hands, then at least we’ll die in each other’s arms.”

Beomgyu’s impassioned and romantic speech tugs on the heartstrings of those present, and they once again believe all the pretty lies he sells them. Can you blame them when he doesn’t even need to lie to you to get you to do what he wants anymore? 

Taehyun never stood a chance. People like Beomgyu will always come on top. 

_____________________________

Though the response to the wedding news has been mostly positive, it wasn’t entirely so, and Beomgyu does lose some of the public’s support because of it. It even put some of the nobles who supported him before on the fence. 

But it didn’t matter to Beomgyu, he was still on top and he was sure that he would win back all the people he lost when they saw that they wouldn’t be risking anything by continuing to support him. 

Most importantly however, he gets to marry you, and that’s what he really cares about. And so the wedding commences. 

It’s an extravagant and public event–probably not the wisest decision in the middle of a war, especially following Ryujin’s death and the accusations she and Taehyun have been hurling at Beomgyu and you, but Beomgyu didn’t want you to think for even one second that you’re less than Ryujin in any way and so he had to top his previous wedding in every aspect. He wasn’t going to settle for a small, private affair. The wedding had to be grand, spectacular–a visual representation of his overflowing love for you. 

Yes, it might’ve not looked good, but it felt good for everyone involved–the nobility who got extra benefits for standing by him, the common people who received a huge feast and precious little trinkets to keep and got to see their king walk amongst them, but most importantly you who got to finally belong to the love of your life in front of the whole world. 

That’s another proof of your hypocrisy. You adore every stupid, reckless detail of it all–his elaborate display of love and devotion for you. You eat it all up. 

The wedding was sunflower themed of course, just for you. Everything from the decorations to your veil to the huge gold necklace Beomgyu wears were either real sunflowers or embroidery and jewelry made to mimic sunflowers and the sun with rays coming out of it. Even your dress, which was the most magnificent piece of art you've ever seen, was embroidered throughout with sunflowers of all sizes. It all looked so gorgeous, the flair of yellow scattered throughout casting a radiant and hopeful glow on everything it touches. 

Still, you have the decency to feel shame and guilt about how much you’re enjoying this, the unwelcome feelings transforming the beautiful carriage you’re riding in on your way to the temple into a cage where you’re trapped with your self-deprecating thoughts. They gnaw at your feet and compel you with an overwhelming, irrational urge to burst open the door and run away from it all. But you know it’s futile, for there is a much bigger prison outside made up of the countless citizens flanking the road to watch the royal carriage pass by. You see them waving at you through the window, visitors coming to witness the curious caged bird their king has acquired.  

You can’t breathe. You can’t breathe. You can’t–

Suddenly, you jolt when you feel a hand on your thigh, and you look up wide-eyed at the queen next to you. “You’re shaking, child.” She observes kindly, and you blink. 

“Oh, I suppose I am.” You stare at your legs as you will them to stop jerking. Curious. You’ve never been known to do that anymore. It must’ve been a habit that you picked up from Taehyun…

No. Don’t think about him. Don’t let yourself go down that road. You’re doing this for your child. It’s over. 

You hear a sigh coming from the queen and your eyes snap back to look at her in shame. “I’m.. I’m trying.” You don’t know why you’re explaining yourself to her but you just can’t handle being a disappointment to one more person. You need support. You need acceptance. You can’t keep fighting anymore. 

But the royals know that all too well. They’re masters at reading people and giving them what they want. “It’s okay, child. It will all be okay. We’re all here for you. We’ll be with you every step of the way.” 

Yes, just like a warden guards their prisoner, the owner must keep their prized pet safe. But the door was open once… you were free once, and you still came back. So how can you protest now when they’re cutting your flight feathers away? 

So you swallow your useless feelings and let them guide you where they want you. You let her take you by the hand as you arrive at your destination and lead you out the carriage and up the vast steps of the sacred temple. 

She stops at the landing and turns the both of you around to face the crowd gathered beneath. “Wave to your subjects, dear. They’ve come to celebrate this day with you.” 

You raise your hand shakily, and the noise from the crowd surges in response to the small action, shouts of “My queen!” “You look beautiful!” “Gods bless you!” reaching your ear but not making it to your brain. 

You can’t process their words, can’t make out their meaning. You feel as if you’re a stranger in your own body, as if you’re watching through the eyes of someone else. 

Ryujin. That’s what she saw on her wedding day. This exact scene, and look where she is now, rotting in the ground.

“Can we go inside now?” You whisper urgently to the queen and she regards you for a second, no doubt taking in your frazzled state, before she nods and turns you around, walking you towards the grand door and giving your back to the chorus of disappointed shouts of “Stay!” “Look at me, my queen!” “Why are you leaving so soon?” and “The other one was nicer.”

That last one almost knocks you to the ground. They’re not done with the spectacle yet. Funny how in all your years imagining this very moment, you never knew that you’d be nothing more than a spectacle for these people. None of them really care. They’re just here for the show. 

You feel your knees buckling and your chest tightening but the queen never lets her grip on you wane, dragging you behind her firmly. You absolutely cannot collapse right now. You’re not allowed to. 

Wonyoung greets you at the doors, and her warm smile as she extends the lovely sunflower bouquet to you helps ground you for a second. 

“You got this, sweetling.” She murmurs in your ear when she bends down to kiss you. Your only answer to her is a shaky intake of breath as you walk through the threshold. 

As soon as you do, a line of dancers on each side of you start moving to the music that begins playing, elegantly leading the way down the aisle and towards Beomgyu in the distance. You can’t see him well from all the way over here, and you lean on the queen and try to focus on the delicate moves of the dancers as you move forward, little bursts of sun glimmering in your vision from your decorated veil, the light scattering further when refracted by the tears in your eyes–tears of happiness, tears of melancholy, they all mix together until you can’t distinguish between the two. 

You start to swoon as the queen leads you up the marble stairs and to the platform Beomgyu is standing on. Traditionally, your father would be the one giving you away, but Beomgyu didn’t want to put you through that. He didn’t want you to have to face your family on the day that is supposed to be the most joyful of your life, and so he spread word that your mother was sick and your father had to stay behind to attend to her, but that they both begged you to go along with the wedding and not postpone it. That way you’d all come across as wonderful, selfless people, just the image Beomgyu liked to sell. 

Beomgyu doesn’t wait until you’re all the way up the stairs. Instead, he meets you halfway, taking you from his mother and leading you the rest of the way to the chorus of ohhs and ahhs at the eagerness of the love-struck king. 

You are so close to fainting now, and as Beomgyu starts to lift your veil, your hands almost shoot out to stop him. 

But with the dazzling yellow reflections out of your sight and Beomgyu’s radiant face coming into view, your world goes back into sharp focus. Standing in front of you isn’t a strange man who doesn’t know his own heart, let alone how to let you into it. It’s Beomgyu, the only person as sure of his love as you are, adorned in his white and golden attire and holding everything you’ve ever wanted in his being, looking at you like you hold his own world in your hands. Nothing else matters. 

There is no hesitation from either of you as you relay your vows out loud, a sense of giddiness and almost urgency coloring the fanciful promises that pale in comparison to what you’ve already proven you’d do for eachother. You don’t take your eyes off one another for even a second, and as soon as the priest announces you husband and wife, you’re swept up in a kiss that you couldn’t tell which one of you initiated. 

The following celebration is held almost entirely outside as you share your joy with the whole city–Beomgyu seemingly intent on making up for all the times he had to hide you by proudly parading you around in front of everyone. 

You have your first dance in the spacious courtyard of the grand temple. The orchestra playing is large, as was required in order to allow the music to be carried out in the open area. It also had the added bonus of involving not only the royal's musicians but some of the more talented musicians from the common folk. Such involvement of the people in the wedding preparation and ceremony allowed the public to feel personally involved and attached to it, therefore strengthening their loyalty. It also led to some of them being paid handsomely for their contribution and further cemented Beomgyu's reputation as the kind and generous king. 

It’s an incredibly emotional moment for you. You don’t want to cry yet again but you can’t help yourself–standing here in the middle of the grandiose courtyard as not just the people present, but the heavens themselves look down on the first act of your long estranged souls claiming each other again. 

It somehow felt sacrilegious, and perhaps it is. 

After all, Beomgyu committed some rather grave sins in order to make your union possible. Maybe you should be hiding. Maybe you shouldn’t be parading around like this right under the noses of the scorned gods. But it still means so much to you that he’s doing all of this for you–the devil’s revolt for the sake of love–and you honestly can’t tell if the cold surge of nerves that freezes your lungs is because of the fear that you’re partaking in this horrible sin or because of the exhilaration of finally getting what you’ve always wished for.  

You try not to think about it much, pressing closer to Beomgyu to ward off the coldness as you let him guide you, starting from the movement of your feet up to the swelling of your chest as you take in your breaths. You follow his lead–taking one breath in and then out, just like he’s doing, and that’s when you discover how feverish he is too, his breathing shallow and rapid as he peers at you, cheeks flushed and irises barely visible. You wonder if he too can’t see the faces of those around you, if whatever mangled mixture of fear and ecstasy is only letting him focus on the person in front of him and nobody and nothing else in the universe. 

“You look… ethereal.” He confirms your suspicions, speaking with the little air he manages to breathe in. “The most beautiful creature the gods have ever created. And I can’t believe I finally get to call you mine.” 

He’s saying that to you? The man so beautiful you’ve doomed your everlasting soul to hell just to stay with him? 

But you don’t say anything. There is no need. You’re here, aren’t you? That’s all that needs to be said really. So you rest your cheek against his chest and let the beat of his heart overpower your weaker rhythm. 

The position greatly hampers the dance but Beomgyu refuses to separate you from himself to execute the moves and you refuse to let go of him. You don’t care. Let the dancers entertain the crowd. You need this more than them. 

After the first dance, the cake is served, and it is huge, superfluously so. It also required a ton of workers to make–just like the orchestra and the extravagant decorations adorning the city. It was made in the shape of the palace and you’re struck by how skillfully it was made and how similar it really looks to the palace. 

You’re given the first bite, another hidden affirmation by Beomgyu that he and all his wealth now belong to you. But the cake is so big, almost everyone gets to have a taste, even including a sizable portion of the common folk gathered around. 

The rest of the celebration is held outside of the temple walls and in the heart of the city itself that bears witness to the odd mingling of the nobles and the common folk in a strange dance that is the first of its kind. Both factions treat each other like strange zoo animals, with fascination yet guardedness, and maybe that’s for the best because it prevents any major instances from happening and disrupting the celebration. 

Of course, there are a multitude of guards keeping the peace, and especially protecting you and the royal family, but this kind of interaction is still unprecedented. But that’s to be expected from “the people’s king”. 

The city is abuzz with excitement, and even as the evening descends, the moon casts a soft, soothing shade of yellow on everyone present.

Aside from the celestial decorations and delicious snacks and drinks provided by the palace, there are dozens of booths manned by various common people to sell their wares to the crowd gathered, and you see the noble and rich flock to them to indulge in the odd street food here and there or buy overpriced trinkets to remind themselves of this strange day when they’re back safe and comfortable inside their gilded mansions. It’s a win-win for everyone involved. 

Beomgyu really made the best out of this possible faux pas. He turned the awkward wedding into a festival of sorts–a day where the rich and poor, the privileged and disadvantaged can come together and celebrate beside each other the union of the kind, generous king Beomgyu and his loyal damsel in distress. 

“Would you like something to eat, my queen?” One of the servants passing out food approaches you, and you try not to act too startled by someone other than Beomgyu calling you “queen”. 

You take a look at what he’s holding to see an assortment of strange looking sweets, most of which you’ve never seen before, but it’s no surprise. You know Beomgyu has enlisted the help of cooks and bakers from all over the world, asking them to make the delicacies of their people just for you, and this must be the result. 

“Oh, I don’t know what to pick.” You hesitate, stumped in front of the wide variety in front of you. 

“Here, try this, my love.” Beomgyu offers, picking up a reddish piece of confection and bringing it to your mouth. You open up, taking a bite out of it and humming in pleasure. Not just because of the food–which tasted delightful–but because for the first time, you don’t feel the need to shy away from his public displays of affection. You’re his wife now. You’re allowed to be together like this. It might even be seen as endearing to some, as you’ve been told. 

“Hmm, is that strawberry?” You ask, and he shrugs. 

“I don’t know.” He answers, bending down and kissing you, tasting the candy on your lips. He pulls back, licking his own lips cheekily. “Yes, strawberry.” 

“What was that for?” You laugh, incredulous at the sudden kiss. 

He shrugs once more, as careless as a little boy. “You asked me what the flavor was.” 

“You have the rest of it in your hand. You could’ve tasted that.” You chastise, no edge to your voice at all. 

“Yes, but it tastes much sweeter from your lips.” He grins, popping the rest of the thing in his mouth before pulling you into another kiss. “What do you think? Is it sweeter?” 

You hum in agreement, your hands finding themselves around his neck, without any input from your brain, and pulling him into yet another kiss that is broken abruptly when you hear a familiar tune reach your ear. 

You pull away and turn to the band who just started a new song, a song that you know all too well. You snap your head back to Beomgyu who is grinning at you. “No! It’s that ridiculous song you used to sing to me all the time!” Your outraged cackle is carried into the heavens by the light air. 

“It’s not a ridiculous song.” He protests, acting wounded. “It was the clumsy confession of a lovesick little prince that you so savagely crushed every time. Do you know how much it hurt that you not only didn’t notice what I was hinting at but that you would make fun of me every time I sang it to you?” 

“Oh, you poor puppy.” You pout mockingly. “Maybe if you sang it better, I would’ve received your inelegant confession a little more kindly.” 

He gasps, scandalized. “How dare you? Maybe you just can’t remember how good I sounded.” 

Beomgyu starts belting out the sappy love song along with the music, attracting the attention of the people around you. You squeak, embarrassed at his display, and you try to hide behind your hands and step away but Beomgyu is having none of it. He is relishing how flustered he’s gotten you. It’s been so long since he has last pulled something like this or even that you’ve been in the mood to receive it. It reminded you of your younger years and Beomgyu won’t let this golden opportunity pass him by. 

He drags you in front of him and dances around with you to the song, all while shouting out the lines and cackling every few words. This dance is much more fun and lively than your first one as you finally start letting go and enjoying yourself. 

And the difference in response from the crowd is palpable as they cheer you on. You and Beomgyu dance and laugh and dance and laugh. You haven’t gotten a sip of alcohol the whole day but you feel drunk. For the first time you allow yourself to forget everything that led up to this moment. For the first time, you are just a silly, lovesick girl getting married to the man she’s loved all her life. For the first time, you let yourself buy into the revelry of everyone around you, let yourself think they really are happy for you. 

But then you see him, the crack in your perfect illusion, the stone thrown at your glass house.

Before you stands the man you met the last time you headed down to the city before beomgyu's marriage. The man Beomgyu introduced you to as Ryujin, and the man who now must see through all the lies Beomgyu has weaved.  He doesn’t say anything to you but you can see the recognition and realization in his eyes.

Your house of deceit shatters around you, driving thousands of shards into your liar’s skin, the pain ripping you out of your selfish fantasy. 

Beomgyu quickly notices the change in your demeanor, and he follows your petrified gaze to see the man that’s effortlessly terrorizing your thoughts. He bends down to whisper in your ear. “Relax, my love, he’s not going to say anything. He’s not that stupid as to risk all I’ve given him. He’ll shut up and keep taking my money and my help.” 

And that’s what it really is. No one will ever stand up to Beomgyu. They all have families to tend to, lives to live, jobs to protect–no one will ever risk that for something as trivial as the truth. Who cares if Beomgyu is lying and Taehyun is in the right? They will still stand behind Beomgyu because that’s what will bring them more profit, more stability, more gain. They’re all liars. 

And that’s when you see it. They don’t actually accept you. They’re not happy for you. They just want what you have to give. They smile at you the same way they smiled for Ryujin, and they would tear you apart the same way they did to her if it meant they had something to gain from it.

A second look at the crowd gathered around you transforms their kind smiles into duplicitous smirks, their happiness for you into greed for what they could take from you, their good wishes into poisonous intentions. 

You feel sick. You don’t want to dance anymore. You don’t even want to be here anymore. Every eye that lands on you feels like tongues of flames, every hand a potential strangler, every soul a demon waiting for your downfall.

You can’t do this anymore. You want to go back to the palace, to be safe and away from the hell Beomgyu built around you to keep you in his clutches. 

“Baby, baby, breathe.” Beomgyu cries urgently, and you realize you’re hyperventilating. 

“I want to go home.”

“But the celebration isn’t over.” He tries to dissuade you but you shake your head urgently. “Please, take me home.” 

One look at the desperation in your eyes and he’s whisking you away from everything, tucking you under his wing and hastening back to the palace. 

______________________________________

Beomgyu tries to hold back. He tries to coax you into opening up and calming down, but you know he can’t help his excitement. This is the day he’s been waiting for for years.

“Baby, he will never speak a word of it to anyone.” He assures you, his lips following close behind his words, sealing the promise in. 

And you know he’s most likely right, but neither possibility makes you feel much better. On the one hand, he stays silent just like all the others and Beomgyu has his way. On the other hand, he speaks up, causing a small ruckus but ultimately no one believes him and once again Beomgyu has his way. 

That’s the way it is and always will be. 

“Let’s just focus on ourselves, okay, love?” He murmurs, slowly stripping you of your dress, his lips covering every inch the fabric leaves exposed until soon enough, he’s on his knees, kissing your stomach behind which your baby lies. “Let’s focus on our child.” 

You have to give it up to Beomgyu. He outsmarted you and everyone else at every turn, and here you are, standing there like an obedient little doll as he hikes one of your legs over his shoulder before burying his face in your cunt, moaning out loud at the taste of you. He takes his fill of you, his tongue insinuating itself between your lips as he laps up your arousal eagerly. He has you right where he wanted, and you begged him for it too–begged for his messed up love and attention, and now you have it, till death do you part. 

"You're finally mine. I can’t believe you’re finally mine.” He murmurs in awe as if he didn’t meticulously plan and scheme for this very moment, as if he hadn’t been dictating and manipulating your every move until you ended up here. 

You should be happy. Damn it, be happy, you bitch. You wanted this. You did this. You caused this war and you abandoned the one man who allowed you to be your own person. So be fucking happy, give in to the pleasure and decadence Beomgyu is offering you, give into his sweet, poisonous temptation that you allowed him to feed you and be done with it. Stop hanging on the fence. It’s not fooling anyone, not Taehyun, and certainly not Beomgyu. 

But you can’t. You can’t just let the luxurious celebration or the soothing moonlight or his soft touches and earnest eyes make you forget what he did to arrive at this moment–the pain, the lies, the betrayal… He didn’t just hurt Taehyun, or his father and brother… he hurt you too. It was on a night just like this–maybe as beautiful to Ryujin’s eyes–when he took you against your will in order to ruin you for other men. He didn’t listen to you as you begged and pleaded for him to stop. He didn’t care that he was breaking your heart. All he cared about was ensuring that you stayed by his side and he was perfectly willing to break you in order to achieve that. 

He forced himself into every aspect of your life–he forced himself on you, he forced himself into your marriage, how he's working so hard to erase any sign of the life you had without him. 

No, this isn’t perfect. This is messed up, just like the both of you. 

"My queen. You are the only thing I ever wanted and now you’re mine."

Have you ever not been his?

He gets to his feet, making you taste yourself on his tongue as he kisses you. Then he tries to nudge you towards the bed but you remain fixed to the ground where you stand, giving him pause.

“Come on, need you, baby.” He pouts, kissing you, but you won’t kiss back, which makes him grow frustrated. “Please, won’t you let me have you?” 

You can’t hold it in. You can’t lie to yourself anymore. This is not the dream you’ve always wanted, this is the ghoulish version of your wishes that the gods are taunting you with for being such a wretched sinner. 

"Now you're asking?” The illusion of the perfect night shatters on your sharp words. Your dream wasn’t for free. It was built on tears and blood, some of them your own. “You didn't ask when you forced yourself on me."

"Baby…" He's shocked by you bringing it up again on your wedding night. Did he expect it to just be brushed aside and not mentioned again? He probably did. He never really owned up to it, just blamed it on you, made excuses for why he did it, tried to make you forget it even happened. 

He must’ve counted on you being dazzled by the glamor of it all, on you being swept off your feet by his extravagant show of courtship that you’d forget about all his atrocities even if for one night. But you suppose even someone as smart as him can fall prey to wishful thinking.  

"What? You’re uncomfortable hearing what you did to me?" You mock cruelly and he winces. "I'm sorry." 

That makes you lose it and you slap him, unable to hold yourself back when faced with yet another lie spilling from his mouth. He holds his hand to his face in shock but doesn’t retaliate. 

"You're not sorry. You got what you wanted.” You sneer, anger bubbling up in your stomach and leaving a sour taste at the back of your throat. “But I want to hear you say it anyway. Show me how pretty you can lie.”

“Baby–” You slap him again, as hard as you can, and this time there are tears in his eyes as he looks back at you. “I’m sorry.” 

“On your knees.” You order him, and he obeys, slumping to his knees so hard the sound makes you cringe. But you refrain from showing him any mercy, drawing your hand back to slap him again, on both cheeks this time. 

He takes them in stride, quickly turning his face back to you following each one, apologies spilling from his tongue to attempt to assuage your wrath. 

But it’s not enough for you. “Say it more. Cry for me." You growl, hitting him again and again. 

"I'm so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m s-sorry."

You don’t know why you insist on hearing it when each time he says it, it fills you with more rage. Maybe it’s because you’re hoping to hear a genuine apology from him–hoping that one of his pathetic emulations of sorrow would sound close enough to the real thing to allow you to trick yourself into believing it. 

But your striking hand turns red and sore long before that fabled utterance leaves his mouth, and before his reddened cheeks and teary eyes beg you for a break.  

“Get up.” You scoff, dragging him up by his hair and throwing him on the bed, and he lets you throw his weight around without a fight. “Take your clothes off and lie down. Hands above your head.” 

You turn your back to him to go grab something that could be fashioned into restraints of some sort. You don’t have the luxury of having spare ropes lying around and maids paid and willing to restrain him the way he did to you, but you’ll make it work. 

You settle on a thin, long piece of cloth that you take with you back to the bed, only to find him still dressed. “What did I say?” 

Beomgyu flinches and starts taking his clothes off, mumbling, “Wanted you to look at me.” 

You scoff, glaring at him as he strips, but that’s good enough for Beomgyu. At least you’re paying attention to him. When he’s done, he lies down on the bed and you climb over him, tying his limp hands to the head of the bed and making sure he can’t get out of them. You are no expert in such things, and you may have put them on a little too tightly, but you don’t care. He deserves all the pain. 

“What are you going to do, my love?” He finally wagers to ask once you’re done. 

“What? Are you scared of what I am going to do to you?” You ask, and he shakes his head. “I know that whatever you do to me, I would’ve deserved it. But I also know that you love me and can’t be without me. So whatever you have in mind, do it. Take your revenge on me, hurt me, make me suffer, do whatever it takes to come back to me.” 

His words infuriate you more. How is it a punishment if he wants it? He can’t even give you that, can he? This is another means to an end for him, a way for him to get what he wants again. “You really don’t care, huh? As long as you get what you want, you’re willing to hurt yourself, hurt me, hurt anyone.” Your voice drips with spite. 

“It’s for the best.” He maintains and you rage, putting your hand over his mouth and nose, suffocating the words inside. “Shut. Up. Shut the fuck up.”

You keep your hand there for a while, smothering him, and yet he lies still, the only movements coming from him are the small jerks of his muscles as they try to jump into action to push you off before he prematurely aborts the action. He becomes so starved for air that the moment you release your hand, the breaths race to enter his body as he heaves them in, and yet you don’t hear a peep of protest from him. 

Whatever. You’ll find a way to make him hurt. You’ll find a way to have him begging for you to stop. If you’re going to let him win then you should at least make him suffer. Maybe then you wouldn’t feel as guilty for giving in.

“You want me, right? Did all of this just to get me?” You ask cryptically and he regards you warily as you climb up his body and position yourself over his face. “Then take your fill of me, baby.” 

You sit down on his face, smothering him before he gets the chance to regain his breath. You don’t know if Beomgyu doesn’t notice your intention or if he simply doesn’t care, because as soon as your pussy is on his mouth, he gets to work, kissing and licking at it as if he’s been waiting for you to do just that. 

Damn him to the seventh hell. 

You make sure to hold your sounds in as he all but devours you, his tongue sweeping along your slit, hungrily lapping up your juices that he so easily commands. Does holding back even make a difference when your body is always so honest with him? 

Yes, because Beomgyu is greedy. It’s not enough for him to have physical evidence of your desire and damning need for him, he also craves the spoken confessions, whether reluctant or enthusiastic he doesn’t care. He just wants you to say it. 

So you bite down on your lip until you taste blood, uncaring about how harshly you’re gripping his hair or how roughly you’re grinding yourself on his face. And Beomgyu takes it, eagerly mouthing at your pussy as his teary eyes peer up at you, pleading with you to say something. 

You hold in all the moans that struggle to get out when his lips wrap around your clit and suck, all the sighs that are trapped in your throat when he pushes his tongue inside you, all the “good boy”s that ache to burst out of you when he sticks his tongue out and lets you ride it. 

You only speak when the air in his lungs reaches a critical low and he finally starts choking under you. But you still don’t immediately get off him. 

"What's wrong? Want to breathe?" You taunt, and he whines into your pussy, arching his back and prompting you to glance backwards, your eyes landing on his leaking cock that is dripping onto his tummy. "You like this, you fucking pervert? Like choking on my pussy?"

He moans again, his body jerking under you from the lack of oxygen, and you finally rise up, letting him heave in some much needed breaths. Then the idiot uses that precious air to whine, “Tell me I’m making you feel good.” 

“What does it matter what I’m feeling when it has always been about you.” You hiss, reaching back and taking his cock in your hand, jerking it off slowly. “As long as you get your cock wet, nothing else matters.”

He shakes his head harshly. “No, that’s not true. You don’t even have to touch me. Just let me make you feel good.” He whines, sticking his tongue out for you to sit on again, perfectly fine with you suffocating him if it meant he’d continue to taste you. 

But you don’t. He’s not getting what he wants. Instead you grab his tongue between your thumb and index finger and pull on it. 

“Bastard.” You sneer, spitting in his mouth, but once again, that only makes him moan. 

“You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” You mutter, letting his tongue go and he pulls it back in his mouth and swallows, smiling. “I know. I wear it like a badge of honor. I never would have gotten you if I wasn’t a little crazy.” 

“Are you proud of what you’ve done?” You question in disbelief.

“Hurting you? No. Everything else, yes.” 

“As if you could separate the two. It all hurt me.” You shake your head. “You’re a monster.” 

“And yet you want me. You love me. What does that make you?” 

“Yes, I am a monster too.” You finally admit, and he smiles, smug. “Should I show you how much of a monster I can be? Perhaps I should celebrate this night how you celebrated your first wedding and get someone to take you against your will, make you feel what it’s like.” 

"I know what it's like." He grits. 

"Oh, please. You dare compare what she did to you to what you did to me?"

“It’s the same, you just won’t admit it. You’re only angry she took what’s yours. You don’t care about how I feel or how much it hurt me. You’re even blaming me for it.”  He growls, smirking bitterly when you don’t deny it. “It doesn’t matter anyway. You would never let anyone else touch me.”

“You’re right. You’re only mine. I can’t let anyone else have you.” You tell him absentmindedly, an idea popping into your brain, and you ignore how his smile gets wide, getting off him. 

“Where are you going?” He asks worriedly. The crazy bastard would rather get slapped and smothered than lose your attention. Well, you’ll give him all your fucking attention. 

You return to the bed, brandishing a new item as you straddle his legs. He frowns at the sight of the dagger you’re now holding, the metal of it gleaming in the candlelight. 

“What are you going to do with that?” He questions you, and you chuckle, trailing the sharp tip from his belly button all the way up to his neck. “Are you scared now?” 

“No.” He answers steadily, craning his head back to expose more of his neck for you. "Come on, kill me and save your precious murderer." He taunts carelessly, "You can't do it. You can't live without me."

“Oh, puppy, I know. And I know you know. You know me so well, as I know you.” You drawl, moving the knife slowly back down towards you. “And I know the one thing you’re scared of… losing me.” 

At that, you raise the dagger up and put it to your own neck, and just like that, his expression dramatically changes. 

“What are you doing? Careful.” He scolds, all confidence fleeing from his body. 

You cock your head at him curiously. “What? Scared I’ll hurt myself?” You taunt, moving the dagger downwards and pressing it against your chest.. 

“This isn’t funny.” Beomgyu tenses. 

“Oh, but I disagree.” You laugh, wincing a bit as you drag the knife over the skin above your left breast. 

“Stop it!” He screams, attempting to get out of his binds for the first time. His eyes follow the trail of blood slowly seeping out of the superficial wound. 

“But it just got interesting.” You mock, making another cut and causing Beomgyu to scream. “Please, I’m sorry. I’ll do anything, just stop it.” 

“What can you do?” You bark, “Go back in time and not rape me? Stop yourself from interfering in my marriage? Not start a fucking war to get me back?”

He clamps his mouth shut and you mutter dejectedly. “No. Of course not.”

You grab his cock again, stroking it. You pay close attention to his reactions as he tries to stay focused, tries not to let his brain fog up at the pleasure, but your touches are deliberate and purposeful, touching him just the way you know he likes, and before long you hear his little frustrated puffs of restrained pleasure. 

“Does that feel good, puppy?” You purr, gliding your pussy over the base of his cock while you cradle the head of his cock in your palm, your thumb swiping at the sensitive spot just under the tip. 

“Yes.” He huffs, still valiantly trying to stay alert but you can see the haziness taking over his eyes as he peers through his long lashes at where you’re touching. “You know just how to touch me to have me wrapped around your fingers. Please, just fuck me and forget about all this madness.” 

“Easy for you to say when you’ve gotten everything you ever wanted.” You circle your hand around the head of his cock and move it in a twisting motion that has his jaw slackening and whatever comeback he had die on his tongue. 

“Do you want my pussy?” You ask curiously as if you don’t know, rising up on your knees and lining his cock with your entrance before sinking down the slightest bit, letting the flushed head breach your hole before quickly taking it out. 

“Oh, please!” He mewls, his hips pushing up to chase your warmth. 

“Stay down.” You suddenly growl, all fake sweetness gone from your voice as you point the dagger back at yourself and Beomgyu immediately stills, whimpering, “Okay, okay, just put that down.” 

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do. You’re not in control here.” You spit at him, wishing that by saying it you could grow to believe it. For his part, Beomgyu nods obediently, keeping his mouth shut. 

You sink down on his tip once again, letting him enjoy the warmth for a few seconds before pulling off him. You repeat the same thing over and over again, for no reason other than to see him pant and whimper and struggle to stay still. 

“Does it hurt, puppy? Look how red your cock is. You must be dying to bury it inside my. tight. wet. pussy.” You tease him, punctuating every word by giving him a short taste of your pussy. 

“Yes, hurts so bad. Need you so much.” He sniffles. 

“Yeah.” You coo, sickeningly sweet to distract him from the coming attack, “Tell me, did it feel good when you forced me to take your cock on your wedding night?” 

Immediately, his defenses go up. “I had to–” 

You press the dagger to his abdomen and make a long shallow slice that has him sucking in a sharp intake of air as the trail of the dagger blooms red. “Don’t you dare lie to me. You came. That must mean you liked it. Or was that something that you had to do too?” 

Beomgyu chews on his lip anxiously, afraid to say anything that would push you off the edge right now when even his excuses can give rise to such an outraged response from you. 

“No, you just wanted to claim me. You couldn’t handle another man taking me when you’ve worked so hard on me.” 

He tries to reach out to you but the restraints keep him in place so he settles on whimpering, “I just loved you too much to let you go.” 

“Well, here I am.” You grab his cock, lining your pussy up with it before sinking down on it, sighing, “There you go, just what you wanted. Are you happy now?” 

“No. Want you to be happy first.” 

“Stop lying.” You hiss, making a deeper cut over where his heart lies. “This has only ever been about you.” 

Beomgyu he shakes his head in denial still, letting you marr his skin the same way he marred your soul. 

“No? So if I told you that I would be happier dead, you’d let me go?” You ask threateningly, pointing the dagger at your belly. “If I told you I don’t want this child, would you let me carve it out?” 

“You wouldn’t.” He croaks, tears filling up his widened eyes. 

“Are you sure about that?” You bottle up every icy tendril of fear trying to grip your heart as you dig the tip of the dagger into your skin. Beomgyu completely loses it, starting to yank harshly on his binds so hard it rattles the bed and almost throws you off. 

“Good job, Beomgyu. You almost made me stab myself.” You lie but he immediately ceases his struggle. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." 

"Stop saying that! You're not sorry." You shout at him, and he wails as you cut yourself again.

“Please, I’ll do anything. Just don’t hurt yourself. Don’t leave me. Please, stop this.” He cries inconsolably, large teardrops splashing down his red cheeks. “If you don’t want the child then we can get rid of it. Just don’t leave me.” 

That stops you in your tracks. “You would give up our child?” You ask incredulously and he nods. “I would do anything for us to stay together.” 

His words unsettle you deeply. So even the child you’ve both been dreaming of can be sacrificed in his relentless pursuit of you? What will he not do in order to keep you? Is anything sacred to this monster you love? 

Beomgyu grows uneasy at your silence and he calls out to you in a weak voice. “Princess…My queen, please say something.”

“There is no redemption for you, is there?” You ask, and he presses his lips together stubbornly. “I don’t want redemption. I just want you.” 

And there it is, proof that there is no redemption for you either–the tightening of your chest at his heretical proclamation of his love for you.  

“You’ve ruined me. I should hate you. I should kill you… but you’re in my blood like poison.” You mutter bitterly, clenching your pussy around him in a way that has him bucking his hips up into you. You suck in a sharp breath at the spike in pleasure as his length fills you up to the brim. 

”But none of that matters to you, does it? As long as you get to fuck me, to own me.” If it’s hypocritical for you to say that while bouncing on his cock then the irony is not lost on you, but who do you have to impress anyway? Beomgyu knows you too well for that. “You only think with this cock.” 

He shakes his head but his hips have a mind of their own and they continue to thrust up into you so you discard the dagger and press your hands against them to keep them in place. “No. Down boy. You will lie back and take what I give you. Just like you did to me.” 

He whimpers pathetically but obeys. Only when you’re sure he’s not going to move do you start moving over his cock again, bringing forth more pathetic cries from him. 

“There you go, cry louder for me, my monster.” You sneer, your nails digging into his flesh as you ride him ruthlessly. 

“Yes, anything you want.” He babbles, struggling to keep his eyes from rolling back. 

“This must be heaven for you, marrying me, knocking me up… it’s everything your twisted mind wanted.” 

He nods shamelessly. “Waited so long.” 

“How does it feel then?”

“So sweet. So–ahh–so good.” 

“You want to cum, don’t you?” You narrow your eyes at him and he nods eagerly. “Already? God, you’re pathetic.” You degrade him but Beomgyu doesn’t care, eating it all up. “Only for you.”

“I know.” You say dismissively, as if you don’t crave that validation just as much as he craves your attention. “Cum then. Spend your seed inside me.”

“Yes, my queen.” He answers with the devotion of a priest offering up a sacrifice to their god. You feel his warm seed filling you up and you slide your hips against him deliberately, milking his cock. “That’s it. Does that feel good?” 

He nods. “Y-yeah… so good. Want to make you f–fuck–feel good too.” 

“Aw, how sweet. Why don’t you then?” You coo, picking up your pace over his spent cock once more. 

Beomgyu’s look of shock only lasts a second before realization sets in. But he bites his lip, holding in his cries of overstimulation. 

“What? You’re not going to beg me to stop?” You ask mockingly and Beomgyu shakes his head. “No. You can use me however you want. I’m yours to break.” 

Your lip curls up in a sneer. Once again, he won’t give you the satisfaction of having hurt him. You’re almost tempted to grab the dagger you had discarded just to make him freak out again. 

But you’re painfully close and edging yourself while letting him cum doesn’t exactly sound like a punishment for him. So you trade your energetic bouncing on his cock for more deliberate swivels of your hips that allow you to snake your hand between your legs to rub at your clit. 

Beomgyu eyes immediately follow your action. “Untie me. I want to do that for you.” 

“Oh, you want to? So I should let you, because Beomgyu always gets whatever the fuck he wants, huh? No one else matters.” 

Beomgyu shakes his head harshly, crying pitifully, frustrated that you’re twisting his words. “No. That’s not it. Just want to make you feel good.” 

But you won't give him a break, even if he's all pussydrunk. “Want. Again, it’s all about what you want.” 

“No, no, no…” He wails, shaking his head in denial, his mind too fogged up to argue with you.

“Don’t lie, Beomgyu. You said you wanted to fill me up every night, right? So do it. Cum in me until you ruin me for everyone else, just like I know you want.” You goad him. “Claim me just like the animal you are.” 

“Yes, my queen. Anything you want. I love you so much.” He sobs as he cums a second time, not trying to deny your filthy allegations anymore. As his hips buck up, frenzied by the second orgasm, he pushes you over the edge too, the both of you shuddering in ecstasy, joined together like you are meant to. 

Orgasming together with Beomgyu always feels almost spiritual, the way the barrier between your two beings blur and for a few seconds you become one. In those few seconds of utter bliss, you feel like you might just tumble into his body and never come out again. 

It’s an intense feeling and it leaves you exhausted, the both of you, but that doesn’t mean that you’re going to give him a break. Powering through the discomfort, you keep riding him, not giving him a moment’s reprieve, and Beomgyu’s body twists and squirms under your merciless ministration. 

“No more. Please stop.” 

“What? Don’t you want me anymore? You did such disgusting, sick things for this pussy, didn’t you? Acted like a rabid dog and tore down anyone who stood between you and me but now you want to stop? No, you're going to lie there and fucking take it.” 

“Please, p-please, aghhh—no more.” Beomgyu cries, his body contorting under you but you hold him in place, your hands bruising his slender body. 

You laugh at his struggle. “Come one, Beomgyu, you don’t expect me to stop just because you’re begging me to now, don’t you? That’s not what you taught me. So come on, be a good mutt and take it.”

Your pace is brutal, the fury coursing through your body searing off your nerves until you can’t feel the overstimulation and the pain anymore, the only thing on your mind is to make him hurt for what he did to you. 

And he does, cumming and crying, crying and cumming. You don’t really know how many times he orgasmed because after a couple of times, his drained balls didn’t have any more seed to give you. But his tears never stopped, overtaking his useless pleas until nothing but garbled cries left his swollen lips. 

“Nghhh–ahhh, pl…ease…” You hear Beomgyu croak when you finally slow down, and you look at his face to see it drenched with tears and drool–his lips bitten raw, his pupils dilated, his cheeks flushed, and his whole expression fucked out. “C-can’t…” 

He manages to articulate what you can plainly see. He can’t handle any more. His body trembles beneath you, and his limbs fall uselessly against the bed. He has no fight left in him. 

You grab the dagger again and point it at him. He doesn’t react, no more wise words, no more challenges, he just stares at you and waits, entirely drained. So then you direct it at yourself and he musters up energy from thin air to beg, “Don’t… leave…me.”

Beomgyu is not afraid of death. He’s afraid of being without you. You know what that feels like all too well. Isn’t that why you haven’t killed him yet? 

You use the knife to cut off his restraints, and as soon as he’s free, he reaches out to you, weakly, powerlessly, but you let him take you into his arms, embracing you like the devil welcoming a sinner to hell. 

There are dark circles under his eyes and the both of you are covered in blood but his smile is serene as he looks at you. “We finally belong to each other.” 

“I have always belonged to you, Beomgyu.” You reply defeatedly, finally giving up. 

_____________________________

A/N: next chapter is the final chapter so be sure to let me know your predictions/wishes for the end! i love to read your theories and hear your thoughts ❤️

also here's a poll. it won't affect the ending at all, i'm just curious lol

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #68

Today was a very mixed bag.

This morning, I drove to the good place with all the nice people. The leader spoke on a great many very relevant things, such as challenging the status quo, distinguishing between that which is law and that which is just, and sitting with and trying to help all of the people whom society has tried to convinced us doesn't deserve it. The grammar and structure of the words has since crumbled and faded away from my mind, because I don't think in language at all, but the meaning remains in my mind, as well as the memory of the tears that were shed; I'm aware that at least some of what I've been trying to do is seen and understood by this very amazing person.

I tried to conduct myself in the space a little differently than I usually do. Typically, my presence in any space is a meek one that tries to stay out of the way. But this time, I walked as though I belong there, and mingled with others as though I am also deserving of taking up space. Just to try to push myself even further out of my comfort zone, today I sat at the "old men's" table (there aren't really assigned tables, it's just that there are folks that tend to gather together because they can easily relate to one another) as though I also belonged there, with the intention of listening to them speak to one another and seeing what I could learn. Imagine my shock when they talked to me as though my voice is one worth hearing!! I wasn't really sure what to do or how to behave in response to such a thing, but I did the best I could to try to contribute, even if I felt clumsy and foolish in the process.

At one point, towards the end, one of them said, as a joke, "Drive carefully home; I know how you women like to be speed demons, haha!" I tried to think of something witty and lighthearted to come back with, but the best I could do was smile bashfully. If only I remembered at the time the line that goes, "Ha! I am a woman in the same way that a tomato is a fruit!"

…I happen to live in a female body. But I don't really think about my gender most of the time. It fluctuates wildly between "none" and "yes". I'll take any pronoun, but the one I typically use for myself in my own mind is "it". But this alarms people, and I'm comfortable with letting people use whatever they see when they look at me, so… it's all good, I guess.

I stopped at Eggcellent on the way home. Some time ago, I had asked them if they might keep a QR code of the petition I made for you where folks can see it. Apparently, though, the people did not thoroughly read the blurb that came along with the QR code, and so they scanned it, thinking that it would lead them to a petition for a real-life human being. Their response, when they saw you, according to the kindly shopkeep, was, "Are you kidding me?" Essentially, disbelief and disgust. So naturally, the kindly shopkeeps had to stop displaying the QR code. I'm glad they stopped if this was how people were responding; I don't want to be bad for business.

But all the same… I have no idea how it is the case that so few people understand that the way your story ends is going to affect everyone here whose circumstances are similar to yours. It will affect how many of us will be able to believe that recovery is possible. It will affect how many of us will be able to believe that we are worth the effort involved with recovery. It will affect whether or not other people will be able to imagine that people like me and like others who I love are worthy of kindness, mercy, and help.

The way stories are told in my world shapes what people believe is and is not possible, on a MASS SCALE. Part of the reason why people still believe places like India are undeveloped, backwater places even though they're not is because that's how they're portrayed in stories in my world. Part of the reason why people still treat certain kinds of people as they do is because of how they're portrayed in books, movies, TV, comics, and song. Stereotypes persist in part because they are parroted over and over again by the song, art, and story that exists in our world. And stereotypes put a lot of nasty and totally arbitrary limitations on what people think that certain kinds of people deserve and are capable of.

So… my efforts to save you aren't just about you. My efforts are for every human in my world who is considered "different" or "fallen" in any way. Because we are not going to see peace in my world until every single one of us stops believing that there is a such thing as "kinds of people who are not worth compassion, kindness, decency, or help".

I want to live in a world where people can begin to imagine that even the most deeply fallen can get the help they need to rise up into wholeness again. Because if not even someone as amazing as you can be saved, what chance in hell do the rest of us have?

I ended up spiraling, though. Not because the kindly shopkeep took down the QR code, but because of what he said to me after the fact:

Some time ago, when I was working on one of the music boxes I made for you…

…there was a lady who came into the shop for the first time, asking what is good. The shopkeep told her a few things, and then went off to do something. I was excited to talk to someone who seems nice about a thing I loved, so I piped in with a couple of the things I like, and with a couple of things that weren't listed on the menu. She then asked about what I was doing, which was punching holes out on the music box. I asked her if she wanted to listen, and she said yes. So I ran the music box, and she told me that it was cool.

…Fast forward to today. The shopkeep told me that the lady knew it was my petition. Apparently, on the day we met, the lady found me weird, rude, and repulsive. She apparently thought that it was disrespectful of me that I spoke to her at all (apparently because "she wasn't talking to me"), and because she didn't actually want anything to do with my music box, but asked about it and said yes to listening to it anyway because she "didn't want to be mean". So I guess I left such a negative and intensely strange impression on her back then that when she felt disgust at the petition, she immediately knew it was mine.

And gosh, what a thing to have to sit with. Can you imagine it? The notion that I can frighten, anger, and disgust people just by existing in a space, talking joyfully about bubble tea, and showing a music box I made to someone who asked about it? I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to take from this. On the one hand, I have the shopkeep telling me that the woman thought I am a bad, wrong, and disgusting thing, but in the same breath, he is telling me that "she should have said no if she didn't want to hear it", and "you are kind and you don't bother anybody and you should just be yourself". I understand, of course, that he must ride a careful balance between customers so that he doesn't lose anyone. But ya know… the notion that perhaps I might cause them to struggle by scaring customers off just by being myself is just… wow.

Of course, I am not at all angry with him for this. Rather, I'm glad he told me. I'm glad to be made aware that my presence makes others feel very uncomfortable. I'm glad to be told that I should continue to be myself… even if it comes with the unspoken implication that I had better go do it somewhere else where no one else has to deal with it, I guess.

The fact remains, of course, that just by existing, I scare people. Even if what I'm trying to do is exude love and joy, I still scare people. And I'm not really sure how it is that I manage to be so bad at trying to do good things that I am misunderstood to this extent, but… well. And also this is coming right after I resolve to act as though I belong in this world even though all signs point to the notion that I… don't. And maybe never will.

…If unaliving is a trigger for you, you might wanna skip this paragraph. But… ya know. I spent a good chunk of time today considering the merits of lying down in a cold puddle, forcibly inducing sleep, and letting the hypothermia take care of the job while I'm out. We have nature trails just a five minute walk from my house. It's winter, and there are lots of big puddles back there; I know where they are, and there's also no shortage of ravens, crows, coyotes, and foxes to feed. It's probably good that I don't have ready access to the kinds of medicines that would induce sleep.

…But. This sort of thinking is just the old wiring and the old conditioning rearing its ugly head in response to my past trauma. Old messages that go something like, "Nobody fucking asked you to speak, MAGGOT," and "Why can't you have normal interests and hobbies, you embarrassing sicko freak?" At this point, because stuff similar to this has been said to me so many times, it doesn't take much for my brain to interpret this stuff, even if it's not said directly. That's just how PTSD is. That's how it works.

But I don't have to surrender to it. I got knocked on my ass today from it, but I don't have to stay on the ground. I can get back up and see what's next. I can use REBT. I can ask the people around me for help. I can listen as the people who love me gently point out destructive, spiraling patterns in my thinking, so that I can stop myself for long enough to come up for air. I can hydrate and eat wholesomely so that my brain can have what it needs to manage the destructive thoughts and the painful emotions triggered from them. I don't have to remain on my knees and believe every nasty thing said about me by someone who is too miserable to see the beauty, joy, and love being offered to them for what it is. I can refuse to allow the voices of the people who don't understand me to be louder in my mind than the voices of those who love me.

I am different from other people, and sometimes this is a lonely thing that hurts very much. But it's easy for me to have love for others who are different. Love for you. Love for Frankenstein's Monster. Love for Mewtwo. Love for Magus. Love for all of my friends and chosen family, who themselves are misfits that society at large does not seem to want. I still love them all, even though society tells me I shouldn't. I can love me, too, even though society tells me that I shouldn't.

…"Conventional wisdom" is such a thing. There are some very good things about it, like, "Sticking a fork in your mouth and then sticking the prongs of that fork into an electrical socket just to see what happens is a very bad idea." And, things like, "Do NOT, under ANY circumstances, attempt to eat Rice Krispie Treats immediately after taking them out of the oven if you value the flesh on the inside of your mouth." Or, "Do not squirt hot glue into the palm of your left hand for the sake of impressing a girl." Or, related, "You cannot try to scrape hot glue off of the palm of your hand with your other hand and expect it to turn out well." And finally, "Try to avoid prioritizing yelling at your glue-covered hands over making use of the cold water in the sink that is immediately to your left."

(do not worry - these are not things that I have done; I've met some very interesting people in the course of my living who help me to avoid finding these things out the hard way, hahaha!)

But it can also tell us a lot of very false things. Things like, "You must remain connected with your family regardless of how they abuse you." Things like, "You should expect certain kinds of people to always act in this certain kind of way." Things like, "These particular kinds of people are all bad and you should stay away from them." Things like, "If everyone is 'mistreating' you, well the common denominator is you, so the problem must be you and not how others are treating you." And things like, "Certain kinds of people do not deserve kindness, help, or even basic decency."

So… I can only conclude that "conventional wisdom" needs to be taken VERY critically, and with ALL the grains of salt. But I think a good rule of thumb for evaluation is this notion: "Anything that is said with cruel, dehumanizing, and unloving intentions is false."

I'm not at risk of prematurely exiting my meat-mech, don't worry. I just tripped up a little today, that's all. And you know what? Ultimately, that's a good thing, because today, I watched myself get back up on my feet from it faster than what I was able to do previously. Sometimes we can't see all the progress we've made until weird things happen and we find ourselves recovering from them faster than we have in the past. So in this sense, even falling down is worth something!

I'm gonna get a snack and play some DDR to try to speed up my recovery even more. So I'll end this here-ish.

Hey, Sephiroth!! No matter how many times you fall down, and no matter how far you fall down, you can get back up! You just gotta let the voices attached to the hands reaching out to help be louder than the voices trying to tell you that you're a monster who doesn't belong! No matter how many voices scream unloving things at you, you gotta understand that such things can only be screamed at us from a place of pain, and nobody is acting in accordance with what's true or in accordance with their innermost nature when they are acting from a place of pain! So let the loving things be louder to your mind and to your ears. Let the loving things be louder, and let them spur you on to move forward, confident in the knowledge that you belong here, no matter what anyone else says.

You are loved. Please stay safe. I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[leezlelatch]

Original Romancing anon here! I just wanted to add to the conversation that I also LOVE seeing kink portrayed in a fluid and normalized way!! Like it can just be part of the characters' sex lives, you know? Just a thing they enjoy sometimes. Some nights Copia wears panties and maybe he wants his ass ate and maybe he even wants to be topped. But it doesn't always have to be a 'scene' with someone being 'the dom' and someone being 'the sub' you know? Of course that sort of kink is great as well! But fan works so often fall into that trope that it's super refreshing to see kink written in a more "real" way 💖💖

Hi! Glad to see you back. :)

Yes, I absolutely agree. It doesn't have to be a big production. "Bottom" has unfortunately become synonymous with "submissive". And in that submissiveness, characters are portrayed as these feminized two-dimensional objects there for the "Top's" or "Dom's" pleasure.

Which we see a lot in the portrayal of Terzo for instance. You can write a character that loves to receive. You can write a character that is unapologetically queer. And as a character with not much background, but some, anyone can weave a tale exploring his sexuality, his relationships, and how they shape him as a person. But the integrity of a character is equally as important. We have learned that Terzo has a lot of internal struggle.

“He represents this frustrated old guy who hates everyone, especially himself. But despite his wounds and his darkness, he has a sense of humour and is endearing, like most of my heroes" (Metallian 7/2015).

We have learned that he had big plans for his papacy in leading his flock toward Meliora - the pursuit of something better.

"...even in his formative years, he remained a focused man of vision, looking far into the future, always addressing his people's needs and longings to keep our church together in those turbulent, rapidly changing times" (Source).

And through performances, the unplugged tour, etc., Terzo has made himself clear as a man who looks after the underdog, who has a sense of humor, who encourages the indulgence of pleasure, particularly a certain feminine one, and is very much a complex character in his own right.

So often you see him portrayed as this bed warmer. As someone whose only purpose is to take what he's given because he's the fandom twink. I think it's a disservice to the character. Which might earn me some frowns, but...

We have four old Italian men at our disposal to craft stories around. Which you can take anywhere and do anything with. I am just of the opinion that they should be allowed to remain old Italian men (other than stories set in the past, of course). With all the complexities that the source material we do have, gives us.

I apologize for my essay lol But thank you very much for your ask. I would absolutely eat Copia's ass.