#iago writes

[unhonest-iago]

Caretaker dealing with a more angry, combative whumpee. One that has destructive outbursts full of screaming and hyperventilating. All they can see is red. Angry at what whumper did to them. To the point Caretaker has to learn how to physically restrain them from further hurting themselves. Especially when whumpee turn their rage towards caretaker. They let a few swings hit but ultimately have to stop them. Holding their arms away from their body. Repeatedly apologizing as they do so.

Later cradling whumpee in their lap when they've finally exhausted themselves. Head tucked in caretaker's shoulder, hands clutching at their shirt. Begging caretaker to not leave them. 'I'll never leave you, just don't want you hurting yourself or me,' holding them just as tightly. 'You have every right to be angry at them. Whumper should've never laid a hand on you. You didn't deserve any of it.' Their voice was barely higher than a whisper.

[400luxxxxxxx]

toxic doomed old man yaoi

shakespeare if he was woke

Iago: God forsake that doltish, doltish man! That he believeth each word to drop from mine own lips as though ‘twere holy writ, blindeth himself in his conceit... God save us all if that moor hadst remain’d powerful as he once was. Was! ‘Tis ever so sweet to speak of him in the past. My hatred for the man doth outlast his brief, fool’s life. Ay, good riddance I say, good riddance. It gives me somewhat to dwell upon, rather than mine own blood seepeth o’er my clothes – and yet, whilst I am so bruised and beaten, the thought dost creep o’er my mind, that I am glad Othello saw me not in such estate... good riddance, I say! And good riddance to his whore of a wife, loyal or nay! I stand triumphant, as I ever was, whilst they both do rot in the ground, many a pace betwixt them. Never have I known a fate more satisfying. If he were to cast me aside, then let him have naught by his side. Yet the question I can but ask myself still, is why doth mine heart ache so? The moor is dead by none but his own doing. Blind was he to mine own worth, casting me off like so. Say not mine hand was unforced. So why doth I ache so?

Were he alive, would he rue it? The fool, to end his own life... could he not be a man? Othello, thou art a fool if thou hear’st me now! By what reason or wit didst thou wed that woman? Did she know thee better than I? Did she know thee more deeply? Doth her devotion put mine years of loyalty to shame? I-

Ay, see me now! Pacing and railing against the walls of this accurs’d cell like a craz’d wretch. Nay, Othello, thou art not here. Good riddance to thee. Thou art dead, I am alive; thus I am the victor.

Yet it doth feel less noble than I had dreamt. There is no crowd to applaud me within these walls. In mine heart there smoulders a fire, yet beneath it lies an emptiness naught can fill. My hunger should have been sated the moment that blade pierc’d his belly, yet instead tis growing more keen as each day doth pass. And without him. Yet pass they do.

Nay, good riddance, The days pass as e’er they did, yet the man who wronged me doth not see their passage – that alone is reason for celebration. Were I free this moment, mayhap I’d travel to the nearest tavern and there proclaim my triumph to all ‘til my voice grew hoarse.

Yet, even as I say it, I dread that the instant I entered, the name “Othello” would lie presuppos’d on my tongue. Oh, heavens, whom do I seek to deceive? There is none but myself here. His name, which stirr’d naught but anger in my heart, used to do the opposite. Speak on, I shall not, for if there aught left to grip save mine hand upon mine wind, it is my dignity. These walls, they crack and whisper – I should know, for I have stood long upon the other side of them. For Othello’s sake, no less.

The fate he met, ‘twas by his own hand wrought. Cassio, his choice? That lecherous, fawning knave? Were I in Othello’s stead, I’d have cast off this mortal coil the moment such a decision was made. And yet, as he hearken’d to mine own supposed crimes, ere he did end his life in such selfish haste, I find myself longing that his reddened face and rueful eye had been set alight for another cause. Mayhaps a more selfish one. That red, perchance warm’d by mine lips upon his.

God, save me! Let some gaoler enter this cell and thrash me senseless for thinking thus, and let mine head be dash’d upon the cold stone floor for that I would not repent.

--

translated version for stupid harlots

Iago:

God forsake that stupid, stupid man! Believing every word to come out my mouth like it is the scripture itself, blinding himself with his own ego... god save us all if he was to remain as powerful as he was. Was – it’s ever so satisfying to speak of him in past tense now. My hate  for the man lives longer than he ever did. Good riddance, I say, good riddance. It gives me something to occupy myself with, rather than the way my own blood drips onto my clothes – while I’m beaten, the thought can’t help but enter my mind that I’m glad Othello never saw me like this... good riddance! And good riddance to his whore of a wife, faithful or not! I remain triumphant as always while they both rot in the ground, metres apart forever. I’ve never heard of a more satisfying fate. If he was to choose to not have me by his side, then he will have no one. The question, however, that I can’t help but ask myself, is why do I still ache? That idiot is dead because of no one’s fault but his own. He failed to recognise my worthiness, pushed me to the side like some sort of wingman, you cannot say my hand was not forced. So why do I ache like so?

If he was alive still, would he regret it? The fool, ending his own life like that... be a man! Othello, you moron, if you by any chance of the heavens can hear me now, you are a fool! Why in any sense of sanity you still held onto would you marry that woman? Did she know you better than I? Did she understand you more deeply than I? Did she stay by your side for god knows how long that put my years of loyalty to shame? I-

Look at me now. Pacing and yelling to the walls of this damned grey cell like some sort of deluded psychotic. No, Othello, you are not here. Good riddance. You are dead and I am alive, and  therefore I am the victor.

It feels less admirable than I had imagined it to feel.

There is no applause in this cell for me. There is a fire burning in my heart but just below it, my stomach is empty as it’ll ever be. My appetite should’ve been quenched the second that knife entered his belly but for some reason it’s getting worse as the days pass. Without him, they pass.

No, good riddance. The days pass as they always did and this time a man who has wronged me is not here to see it – that, in my books, is a cause for celebration. Why, if I was freed right now maybe I’d even go for a trip to the nearest tavern, and brag about my winnings to everyone I can see until my throat is raw.

However, and I truly may hate myself for this, I fear the second I storm in there and open my mouth to speak, the name “Othello” would already be presumed to be on my tongue. Oh, who am I to fool. There is no one here but me. Where his name, when spoken to me, now provokes ire and anger, it did so used to do the opposite. Speak on, I will not, for if there is one thing that I wish to hold on to other than my hand to my bleeding wound it is my dignity. These cracking cell walls, they speak. I should know; I’ve been on the other side of them for the majority of my time here. For Othello’s sake, nonetheless.

The fate he had he brought it on himself. Cassio was his choice? That good for nothing womanizer? If I were Othello I’d have killed myself the second that god-awful decision was made.

And yet, as he was told of my crimes, before he did end his own life so selfishly, I can’t help but wish the red in his face and the regret in his eyes could’ve been for a different reason. The flush of his face, maybe accompanied with my lips on his.

God, spare me! Let someone back into my cell to beat my wounds raw for thinking such a thing, and let my skull be cracked open on the cold, concrete floor for not wanting to take it back.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

okay, ob jamil cookie

Smoked Cheese Cookie is even a consultant to a royal, has a sussy staff, AND mind control powers like Jafar… and is plotting to take down a golden ruler that he considers childish and not worthy of the position 😭 He has turned Iago into his headdress…

THIS IS JUST JAMIL'S COOKIESONA

[c-rowlesblogs]

the last time I made a post about a character type I really like it went well, so here's another one: I love a character who is a piece of shit loser.

Let me explain: a very specific kind of piece of shit loser. This is a character who is almost never (at least not at first) a major protagonist or a major villain. They might be a mercenary or thief or black-hat hacker or in some other sort of antisocial "bad guy" line of work. They are some sort of henchman, or at least have strong henchman energy: dangerous and/or talented in specific skills perhaps, but also, importantly, undeniably a loser. Their personality sucks. They're uncharismatic and unpleasant. The heroes interact with them only when they must-- and this character deliberately cranks up the cynicism around especially sunny or optimistic heroes. They know the world is a cold, hard place, and the only thing they trust is cold, hard cash (if they're even getting paid for this shit). Things like "hope" and "friendship" are for suckers.

Until... somehow, some incident or confrontation or compounding sequence of events puts a crack in their armor. It's a crack where the light can get in-- and also, alarmingly (to others and to them), shine out. It turns out this piece of shit loser had a little spark of goodness buried deep inside all along, and no matter how much they dig in their heels and insist they don't care, their conscience is steadily pulling them over to the "good" side, and it's winning. And the heroes know it, too: this character might still be a piece of shit loser, but now they're their piece of shit loser, and there's no going back.

[crystallizsch]

*Note that this mini event takes place in the future, years after the character's have graduated and left Night Raven College. Lydia and Silver have two kids by the time they get married, Ryuumi (their adopted son, age 6) and Momo (their biological son, age 4) They live in Briar Valley (specifically in the house Lilia raised Silver in), with Lilia visiting/staying over often (he basically lives with them lol ♡)*

You open your mailbox one morning to find a letter, wrapped in twine and wild flowers. Your name was written neatly on the front, with small drawings in crayon surrounding it (done by a child). Inside the letter was an invitation, inviting you to a joyous occasion.

Lydia and Silver are getting married, and you're invited! ♡

The wedding and reception will be held outdoors, in the woods near their home (essentially their backyard lol ♡). The wedding will have chairs on each side of the aisle for guests to sit, decorated in soft pinks, blues, and gold (alongside the natural plant life). The reception will have tables and chairs, along with a dance floor and buffet (that will be catered).

Since this mini event takes place in the future, think of this as a fun opportunity to imagine what your OC and OC x Canon's future will be like! Maybe they're married, or have kids of their own? Or maybe they're separated, and have a reunion at the wedding?? 👀👀👀

Is your OC attending as a guest, or are they part of the wedding? Like a bridesmaid, or groomsman, or even being Lydia's hairstylist for the day! It's up to you ♡

There's no dress code/requirements either! It's moreso what you think your OC / OC x Canon would wear if they got invited to a wedding (or were apart of a wedding party!) ♡

Once people start responding to their invitations (whether it be with art, writing, etc) I'll write some scenarios to go along with it, and tag you when it's posted ♡

Thank you! ♡♡♡

AWH THIS IS SO CUTE 😭💖

of course yuusha accepts!! (also thanks for giving me an excuse for showing jamil and yuusha’s totally happy canon timeline post-NRC ehehehe)

Yuusha started working as staff at NRC after graduation (her job is still TBD but I still want her to be connected to Ramshackle dorm somehow but uh anyways-). She was also invited as a bridesmaid and a hairstylist.

Yuusha, upon receiving the invitation, immediately calls up Ace and Deuce and finds out that they have been invited as well. It seems that a lot of classmates back in NRC were also invited. It'll be a like a reunion.

Somehow the topic of Jamil got brought up. Yuusha had not talked to him after graduation. It was as if he just disappeared.

They promised they would keep in touch. But the messages from Jamil became less and less frequent until he never responded again.

And Yuusha had not thought about him. Until now.

♥️: Dude, why'd you have to bring him up?

♠️: Sorry! I was just wondering... But if I see him there I'm gonna-

♥️: Stop talking. Hey, Yuu. Call us when you need anything.

💜: ...Thanks, Ace. See ya both later.

Yuusha hung up the phone and sighed.

🐈‍⬛: So what did those bozos say.

💜: Nothing. It’s not a big deal, they just brought up Jamil.

🐈‍⬛: Yuu, I haven’t heard you say his name in years.

💜: You make it sound like he’s someone who musn’t be named.

🐈‍⬛: Because he is.

Yuusha throws her cup at Grim in frustration, knowing that the direbeast will just catch it with his magic.

💜: Do you think he’d even be there? Would he even… bother. He hasn’t reached out to me in years, why would he show now? Knowing I'll be there... Would he know I'll be there?

🐈‍⬛: Well if he shows up, I'll roast his butt like I did Kalim's all those years ago.

💜: We'll make that Plan B.

Yuusha collapsed back on her seat and stared at the invitation. She absentmindedly fiddles with the feather on her hair tie. No, his hair tie that she left him all those years ago.

After a long moment of contemplating and just letting the feelings sink in, she managed to promptly make the feeling fade away. Yuusha found herself giggling.

🐈‍⬛: What's suddenly so funny? Are you finally losing it?

💜: .....Hey, do you think we can bring [REDACTED] as a plus one?

🐈‍⬛: That was a quick switch-up. That birdbrain? Yuu, what do you even see in them.

💜: They’re charming, okay.

🐈‍⬛: Here we go again.

💜: Shut it. Just let me have this.

🐈‍⬛: If it makes my henchhuman happy then sure.

[onesentencemusings]

These two are so silly, I love them.

[passionpluto]

funny that ppl think neo putting the plot on pause is weird

i mean, i get that it's unprecedented for neo, but negotiating with agents irl is just "the first 30 pages have been submitted for general edits," followed by "the first 30 pages have been submitted for character edits," followed by "the first 50 pages have been submitted for worldbuilding edits" and so on

to be clear: that last one is not new content that advances the plot, but rather the first 30 pages with an extra 20 pages of worldbuilding interspersed due to an immense lack of it in the initial draft

patching writing is just as time-consuming as patching a game and that worldbuilding patch took me about 2 months i.e. about what tvw will likely take

imo, seeing this type of time being taken to listen to feedback about the plot is a good sign if anything

[furiarossa]

In cui Danny finalmente torna a casa, ma la casa non è quel posto accogliente che si potrebbe immaginare. | In which Danny finally returns home, but home is not the welcoming place one might imagine. How will the parents react? How long has their son been away from home? And what does Danny's "ghost" half think about the family??

Discover this, and much more, in the new, very cool chapter of "Danny Runner and the Phantom Crown".

Don't miss it!

We're writing this one both on Wattpad and A03!

And both in English and Italian ;)

[edettethegreat]

honestly so tempting to upload papers I wrote for Shakespeare class here

or at least paraphrase

because my professor basically wanted us to write papers that were completely unique and original so everyone had to give her our hottest takes

[unhonest-iago]

Bakugou + saying 'I'm proud of you'

you were having the worst day ever. everything that could go wrong did go wrong. starting with you sleeping through your alarm. then during sparing, you managed to sustain an injury bad enough that Aizawa had to send you off to Recovery Girl. not before scolding you for your subpar performance. after dealing with Recovery Girl's treatment, you just wanted the day to end. to snuggle underneath the covers in your dorm with a movie playing in the background. hoping the sun would cross the horizon quicker.

but Bakugou had noticed how defeated you had looked. with drooped shoulders as you went through the motions, entirely unfocused. an odd sense of worry flooding through him. embolden with instinct to go check on you. if nothing was wrong then no harm, no foul. he would get to spend time with his partner. and if there was a problem, he could threaten to harm whoever was behind it. unable to find you still at Recovery Girl's station, she informed him he could probably find you back at the dorms. as Bakugou stomped across the floorboards, he picked up on the sound of crying. said sound increased as he made his way to your room. 'y/n, open this door before I burn it down!' Bakugou growled as he banged his fist on the door.

you got up to open the door, before returning back to your alcove of a bed. closing the curtain halfway, a stuffed animal clutched close to your chest. 'what's wrong? and don't say nothing, it's been following you around like a dark cloud.' Bakugou removed his shoes before joining you in your bed, sitting on the opposite side with his feet against your side. 'just one of those days where the universe ultimately has it out for me. Not only did I get myself injured, I totally bombed all the tests we had today. Even though I studied my ass off.' Bakugou didn't want your day to end on such a sour note. He had to do something to change that. 'i don't think it was all bad,' you looked at him as if he'd grown a second head, 'yea, you might've stupidly injured yourself. but you still held your own for most of the fight. and you did it sleep deprived.'

this being extremely out of character, you just had to ask. 'what are you trying to say Kacchan?'

'that i'm proud of you.' Bakugou says before spending the rest of the night with you, going against his grandfathered in routine. watching trash tv, purposely talking shit about the contestants to make you laugh. despite previously claiming he'd be caught dead watching it. junk food wrappers collecting on the ground to be picked up later.

[noihavenosanitythanksforasking]

does anyone else have the flavor of autism that makes you capitalize random words in a sentence???

[pyromaniacbibliophile]

Honest Iago

A "Traitor's" Tale

Loyal to one- one alone

Cloak all intentions true under daws' feathers

Hide away your heart of stone

Tis nothing and nothing again,I do not mean to suggest -

Why, of course twas not them, what say you such things for?

Although - and I would not like to imply

I am not one for rumour or lies

But see you not their looks?

Lingering glances when supposéd alone..

No, no, I have said too much.

I would never wish them any ill, of course.

If the dog eats the dog then hunt in a pack

Yet hold no loyalty to one or another

Pick the winning side in the games

Switch at half time if the tide turns

There is no extent to the layers of deception

One can be a double agent, triple, quadruple

There is no need to be honest and true

Why should I? Why should you?

People are too honest, they hold their heart on their sleeve

Believe first impressions, and trust absolutely

Make a pretence of such, of course

Show every 'ally' a different heart, a different truth

Should I doom myself to death if others choose the wrong side?

Why should I give my soul to any old fool

To cut at with swords of war?

Every vestige and trimmings of honesty show

Let not your true heart get attached

Then plunge a dagger into their turned back

And take their head and pockets to their foe

My word is no 'honest' one, I am no such knave

Yet all around me think it not so-

They believe my words, my loyalty supposed

And trust in me with their secrets

Oh, honest Iago-

A friend to every man

Well, such is true, albeit -

A friend who does not have your back!

Why shouldst I be loyal?

Ha. To tell the truth a job for fools.

Ah, but loyal I am in the end

Loyal to one- one alone.

Myself!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

twst fest stream news

Most of it was the VAs goofing around and talking about themselves, their characters, and/or current content in TWST. However!! We also got some exciting news—

Starting off, a preview of the next birthday series! It’s based on the Disney 100 suit designs. This line of cards is (tentatively) Platinum Jacket/Suit.

You know what that means??? 😭 Maybe we’ll finally know what Disney villains ambiguous characters like Jack are inspired by… (Addendum: the frames behind the characters may not actually show character inspo; it could just show the member of the Great Seven that corresponds to their respective dorm or demonstrate some other pattern entirely.)

Grim’s getting a Disney 100 limited SSR featuring Grim and Mickey :9 This SSR Grim will be coming sometime this October.

The next Halloween event will feature characters based on The Fox (aka Honest John) and Gideon from Pinocchio, so now I’m speculating maybe an Ortho SSR (since he’s the “puppet that became a real boy” in book 6). Oof, no Rollo I guess??

Also, free 10 pull!! You can use it on the limited time event banner (Lilia/Riddle or Floyd/Ace) if you wish~

No anime news unfortunately!! But there is a suspicious giveaway campaign. 300 lucky winners will receive a digital gift card to Disney+…

To participate, follow twst_jp on X Twitter and retweet this post. If you are one of the 300 selected, you’ll receive a DM from twst_jp.

[greeneyed-thestral]

[princepsumbra]

continued from here, @tacitanis

It's the mocking bow that reminds Leo of where there are, the eyes and ears most certainly cataloguing every word and movement. With visible effort, the prince schools his features back to something approaching impassive. Hiding his utter disdain is a feat he can't quite manage.

"Feigning idiocy never suited you well," he sniffs, unable to stop his hands from curling into fists. Whatever theories he says, Iago will dismiss with that irritatingly silver tongue of his. Regardless, Leo can play the game again--he's won once before.

"You want to retain some semblance of power. That much is clear; no sense in denying the obvious. You clearly enjoy riling me and my family." His looks down his nose at fathe--Garon's--former retainer. A ghost now haunting Nohr's royal family.

There's something Leo hasn't considered, a method behind this utter madness. "You seek redemption, perhaps. By showing contrition--and poisoning the new king's mind--you will try to convince the people you're a changed man. Not to mention how gracious the royal family will appear by comparison! Welcoming you back into our halls, allowing you all the privilege of your previous position."

The sneer enters his voice without his consent. "Snakes shed their skin but never change their true color."

[accultant]

"Can you help me with the back of this dress?"

Iago is already stepping in to fix the laces before Puck even has to ask, barely suppressing a grin behind her back. They've been downright giddy since Puck first asked them to go dress shopping, but they try to keep a handle of their excitement to a degree.

These days, Iago does make the effort to be more open about their feelings - they've taken a liking to blunt, often unprompted declarations of "I am having a good day." or "I am going to start crying now." or whatever else they feel they should express to counterbalance the years of overthinking and suppression they're shaking off.

But for this specific instance, they return to something a little more reserved. Yes, they might've burst into tears and hugged their sister ( sister! ) tight as they could when she first came to them with this revelation of womanhood. It's just so deserved, Iago thinks, that Puck can finally, finally be someone, anyone of her own making. How elating it is to see their twin change and grow beyond what either of them could've ever dreamed of. Yes, of course they cried.

But this, - a simple-but-not-so-simple shopping trip - they feel this warrants a gentler approach. They didn't want their over-excitement to frighten or sway the already sheepish Puck ( also, for this, they had gone to the shop ahead of time to ensure it would be completely empty for an allotted time. they must've looked rather threatening stern about this request, since even the resident clothier busied themselves with something in the back after their arrival, giving the twins free rein ).

They meant to give more room for Puck to figure out how she feels on her own. Iago remembers their mother doing the same for them, long, long ago, when her recently-realized gender-adverse child had to pick out a new outfit for school. They could always see her smiling in the mirror behind them whenever they nervously switched back-and-forth between a dress and slacks and a skirt and slacks again and maybe the dress again- When they would turn to ask their mom what she thought, she would always start by turning the question back at them, first, neutral and patient.

Internally, Iago is cheering louder than they realistically ever could and pouncing on their twin with as much adoration and pride they could muster in a hug at every second. Outwardly, they finish tying off a bow and step back and around to get a look at the full outfit.

Iago puts their fingers to their mouth, tapping them as if thinking, poorly concealing a smile. They start simply, "You've got your color scheme down, of course. That's hardly a question."

She looks fantastic!

Yes, yes, but you would've said that about anything in here, Iago.

Yes, well, I'm right.

"How does it feel?" they probe. They spin their finger around at her, "Go ahead, try out a twirl."