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utopeian · 1 day ago

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be sweet to me

SUMMARY Bob notices that you're painfully shy to initiate physical touch and takes matters into his own hands. Literally.

PAIRING bob reynolds x gender neutral!reader

GENRE fluff, slight humor, established relationship

WORD COUNT 1.7k

WARNINGS a lot of oh's, reader is a working civilian, bob & reader's relationship is fairly fresh, no Y/N mention

AUTHOR’S NOTE requested! i listened to japanese breakfast's be sweet on loop while writing this, enjoy!

The city’s usual hustle and bustle has died down a little considering it was the middle of the afternoon, the sky was bluer and brighter and clearer than usual, soft music murmuring from the cafe’s hidden speakers. Or maybe it was because you were with Bob that everything happened to feel a little lighter.

You’re in disbelief that a man has made you think and feel this way.

You were in the middle of a discussion with Bob about the new book he picked up when your phone vibrates on the table. You shut your eyelids just to roll your eyes under them and redirected your focus back on Bob.

However, he also got distracted and pointed out, “aren’t you going to check that?”

You are, but you knew once you confirmed it was a message from your job, you’d have to burst the comfortable bubble you were sharing with your boyfriend. The title still felt incredibly new, in the awkward, squeaky clean way. In the way that makes you tiptoe around it to make sure the dirt from your shoes don’t soil the shiny ground.

“I— yeah, I probably should.” You sigh, getting the inevitable over and done with.

You see that the notification was, in fact, from your co-worker. Something about needing you to come in at the last minute, revoking your day-off privilege with a promise of giving it back some other time instead. Yeah right.

You grumble to yourself— or so you thought, not used to having a partner with heightened hearing— before putting your phone face down with a little more force than necessary, “I can’t believe I thought I could ever get a day away from work.”

(Bob doesn’t know if it’s acceptable to admit that he finds your annoyance attractive.)

It’s not that you found it difficult or that your co-workers gave you a hard time, but rather it gets tedious and boring at times. Sitting in front of a screen waiting for clients to get back to you regarding revisions and cramming them because it was their fault they didn’t email back right away didn’t sound so appealing right now. You didn’t really have the liberty of choice, though. So much for living in New York.

“Bob, I’m so sorry to end our date here, but I’m being summoned to work.” You sadly tell him. The hand you rest on top of your phone itches to reach over and hold his own that cradles his drink, but you manage to will it otherwise; it takes your whole being not to touch him. Too soon, you think to yourself, don’t scare him away.

He noticed the way your fingers shifted slightly towards his direction, eager to finally feel your hands intertwine. Keeping his eyes on your regretful expression instead, he waits for you.

Your hand never found his.

Bob slumps in his seat out of disappointment due to two things now. But living with a bunch of retired assassins forced into public duty has desensitized him from taking conversations cut short too personally.

He shakes his head to recover, a reassuring smile now resting on his lips. “Don’t apologize, I get it. The others also have times when they need to leave abruptly in the middle of conversations.”

You’re sure he didn’t mean to, but now you just feel like more of an asshole. As you sluggishly start doublechecking your things, you ask him something out of curiosity. “Do you ever join them?”

He thinks about it a little, trying to see if there have been instances that he tags along because he was also summoned with them. “Hmm. No, not often. Too many risks involved.”

Half of your attention was towards fixing your bag but you manage to nod thoughtfully, listening as he vaguely recalls a time he actually joined The New Avengers to an important meeting, not wanting him to expound further if he wasn’t comfortable.

Before you had gotten together officially, when he knew he could trust you more than the level of friends, Bob had forced himself to open up a conversation with you about everything: his fucked up past, how he landed in Malaysia, and the time he had lost control of his strength and engulfed almost the entirety of the city in darkness.

You heard it all. And you decided to stay.

(If you put it that bluntly, it doesn’t exactly sound… romantic. There were obviously more nuances you considered before dating him.)

You lift your head up to see Bob already looking at you patiently and attentively, both his hands still on the paper to-go cup. You give him a little nod to indicate that you’re good to go if he is. He acknowledges it, standing first to be by your side before you get up. Cute.

Bob throws the empty cups in the garbage bin beside the receiving area; you hadn’t even noticed that he also grabbed your trash.

The barista by the counter says ‘come back soon!’ as the two of you exit, the little chimes above the glass door clinking to announce your departure from the cafe. The two of you walk a minor distance to stand outside by the glass display, not wanting to cover the doorway.

Your thumb slides under the handle of your bag, pretending to readjust it on your shoulder because you don’t know what to do with your hands yet, still painfully hesitant to reach for Bob’s. You peer up at him shyly. “Um, this is where we part ways, I suppose.”

He blinks at you owlishly, your concern only grows when he says a single syllable defeatedly.

“Oh…”

You blink back at him. Anyone intently watching your interaction from a distance might think you were communicating through morse code. “‘Oh’? What, ‘oh’?”

Bob fiddles with the sleeve of his soft sweater, eyes looking away from yours every few seconds. He can feel his face getting warmer and he’s sure you can physically see it.

“I, uh, wanted to walk you to work to… make sure you get there safely. I–If that’s alright with you, of course.”

Oh.

You’re stunned. You know it’s the bare minimum, but you can’t help but be surprised that anyone ever thinks to be a decent person nowadays. The rise of assholes, you suppose. “No, yeah. That’d be perfect, Bob. Thank you.”

He waves you off then stops his hand out right in front of you. Again, what is it with this man just being an annoyingly perfect gentleman? You felt the blood in your veins freeze, thinking he was going to ask for your hand, before he offered, “I can hold your bag.”

Your mistake for thinking he wanted to hold your hand, too! Whatever. You put your harmless bitterness aside to thank him again and give him your handbag, keychains rattling at the motion. Bob looks for the source of the noise, eyes lighting up once he sees the charms hanging on the side of your bag’s buckle.

You start walking towards the direction of your work building as he follows, cradling your purse cautiously in his arms to inspect your decorations and points one out. His finger taps on a sun-shaped charm inspired by the opacity of suncatchers.

“I like this one.”

Your eyes move from the street in front of you to what he was looking at.

…Oh.

“Me too, it’s my favorite,” you share, yet you’re reluctant to verbalize what you want to admit to him. Fuck it.

“I actually bought it ‘cause it reminded me of you.”

Your pace picks up nervously as your eyes immediately fleet anywhere except for the presence to your right; at a rat making its way down the subway stairs, strangers haphazardly crossing the road, a distant digital billboard blinking colorful images out.

Too frantic at the idea of Bob being weirded out at your confession, you don’t realize that he had finally shouldered your bag to reach out for your hand. The moment his palm slides into yours, your whole body is electrified. You love it.

You jolt to look over at him, a shy grin on his face, clearly pleased with your reaction. You realize that he had noticed your reservations and took matters into his own hands. Literally. You mirror his expression in double the glee.

From that moment to when you finally arrive in front your office, your hands never once detached from the other.

“This is where we part ways, I suppose.” You smile at him cheekily, parroting what you had told him earlier.

Bob gives you your handbag; you almost forgot about it. His face hurts from smiling. Your moods are contagious. “For real this time, then.”

“Yeah…”

You really don’t want to go and Bob really doesn’t want to leave. But duty calls and bills and dates and gifts won’t pay for themselves. This time, you’re the one to take the step forward first, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

The way you bring him into the embrace is rigid at first but once you feel his body reciprocate, you melt together perfectly. You can’t believe you were nervous to hug Bob.

Pulling away seems like a foreign concept to you, so he does it for you, knowing your work desk awaits your arrival. He didn’t know he was capable of grinning this widely, laughing at your playful pouting.

He thinks you’re about to bid him a verbal farewell when you take another step closer, placing a delicate lip gloss-coated kiss on his cheek. He feels the same exact electricity you had felt minutes ago. You whisper when you pull away, gazing meekly into his affectionful eyes. “Thank you for today, Bob. I really enjoyed it, even if it was cut short.”

“Thank you too, I also had fun.”

You just look at each other, rocking your feet. After a moment of sweet silence, you finally point at your building with your thumb along with an exaggerated look of disgust playing on your features, sighing dramatically to get a laugh out of him. You think his laugh is cute.

Unwillingly, you turn your back on him to move forward, only to turn around a millisecond after. Bob’s still there, looking at you so lovestuck, hand awkwardly raising to wave. You giggle, finally taking your eyes off him and walking into reality.

Damn, you’re in deep.

#🎱 ⚡️ *️⃣#bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x you #bob reynolds x y/n #bob reynolds imagine #robert reynolds x reader #robert reynolds x you #robert reynolds x y/n #bob x reader #bob x you #bob x y/n #bob reynolds #robert reynolds #bob thunderbolts

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sweetverine · 2 days ago

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MR. HOWLETT | professor!logan

warnings: MDNI (+18), smut, porn with a bit of plot, student-professor relationship dynamics, power relationship, age gap, afab reader, pet names, cockwarming, no use of protection, pulling out, dirty talk, praise too)?

a/n : it's been a long time, i know, prof!lo has just been on my mind 24/7 i needed to do something about it, idk what to think about this, it's purely filth so........ also this pic of hugh????🫠 yall can imagine the logan you want for this one 𖹭 hope you enjoy it

When you entered university, the subjects were somewhat difficult, but you managed them. The first semester was fine, without too many problems, and even good grades. You were good at what you did, earning the occasional compliment from professors for your good performance.

But, when your parents were unable to pay your college tuition, things got complicated, forcing you to get a job if you wanted to keep studying. You had to divide your time, one day working, another studying, other days half work and half study.

This routine began to affect you, the subjects became somewhat difficult each time, meaning that you had to pay more attention, more time that you didn't have. Your concentration was zero, every time you tried to sit down to study you found yourself unable to do so.

and worse? You had started failing in a particular class, mostly the most unbearable and hated one; History. It was a heavy class, boring. You yawned every two minutes at the matters discussed in the two weekly hours.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ *⁠.⁠✧∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

At this particular hour You held his cheek against your elbow, resting on the table, looking in a boring way at the professor, you sigh. Your gaze slid towards his arms while you didn't listen to his senseless words, Mr. Howlett was never an ugly guy. In fact, he's Quite the opposite; Handsome, Tall, smart, nice hair, flattering glasses and an athlete's body. Every girl's dream.

That white shirt folded up to his forearms really pleased your sight. You could feel the heat rising from your neck to his ears as your mind plotted all the things professor logan could do with those arms, or the things he could do with his big hands, even the things that mouth — besides not stopping talking about history — gives fantastic kisses, capable of making some legs tremble.

Your eyes went further down, meeting with his jeans and his somewhat extravagant leather belt. You could notice how big his legs were, even though he was already big, those jeans just flattered him, you also found a normal bulge that any man has. And there you question about it, How big is it? I'm sure it's bigger when it gets hard, is it thick? Oh god. Why are you thinking about this?

you licked your lips, closing your eyes before going back to his boring lecture. He's too handsome to be talking about boring matters, even though it makes him hotter. This was the real reason for your bad grades, being distracted on the clouds thinking about Mr. howlett. You could feel something heavy in you, which led you to look at him, meeting his gaze, speaking while he didn't take his eyes off yours. Your cheeks burn and you decide to break the totally awkward exchange.

“read the entire unit for next class.” He said, ending the class. As soon as the hour was up, you rushed to try to escape, quickly putting away your notebook, your pencil case and water too, you put on your backpack, feeling a little relieved to finally be free, everyone was doing the same thing as you, others already leaving.

You put on your backpack, Now calm down, you had to worry about other things now, but surviving this class was the goal of your day. You were getting closer and closer to the desired classroom door. There weren't many people, just a few girls along with boys leaving, including the professor who hadn't left yet, who was sitting at his desk, reading some papers that were displaced on his desk.

you reached for the door, almost feeling free but a deep, masculine voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Hey, Miss, I have to talk to you about some things. don't leave yet.” Logan said, looking towards your back.

‘Fuck’ You whispered, slowly turning around and walking towards his desk, watching the other students leave, achieving your desired freedom.

“I wanted to know if you are aware of your grades.” He says, looking at you with those hazel green eyes, your pulse drummed on your chest at the mention of your grades.

“u-uh.. yeah, I know I'm not doing too well in this subject..” You looked away, avoiding his gaze, respectfully.

“That is true, You also have work to hand in, this is the second one you haven't given to me.” His voice makes you shiver, and nervousness begins to take hold of you. “Is there any reason for that?”

The awkwardness in the room was more than palpable, You swallow dryly.

“I started working full time, paying for college is becoming a little difficult for me.” you say, being honest with him and your situation.

He nodded slowly, hearing you sincerely. You were afraid of what he was going to say next, the silence made you more anxious.

“Your situation is not really an excuse,” He says, leaning back, his voice is firm but not cruel

“but… I can't not give you a chance when life kicks you in the ass.” He says, his face serious, grabbing a pen.

“I'll make time, come to see me tomorrow.” He writes something on a piece of paper on his desk.

“I'll tutor you.”

Your cheeks turned red, “R-really?..” That was too fast, Since when is he so considerate?

“Don't make me repeat myself, Miss.”

His voice echoed in your ears, almost leaving you dumbfounded. you hum softly.

“Goodbye, Mr Howlett, thank you.” you mutter, Giving him a little smile before starting to walk away from the classroom, sighing when you finally step out of it.

These are going to be long private classes.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ*⁠.∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

After 4 tutoring classes, your grades got slightly better. Mr Howlett was more than a good teacher, you handed in the work you were missing and he was patient enough for you, explaining everything slowly and easier.

Now you're 10 minutes late to his tutoring class. With nervousness you knock the door twice, You don't think he'll have mercy on you this time. Your sweaty hands grabbed the knob and entered the office. The only light was a lamp that he kept on his desk, illuminating the desk with a warm tone.

“You're late.” Logan was eyeing some history book, with the glasses fitted on the bridge of his nose and shirt sleeves rolled up. The room seems to get smaller as you walk towards the chair, sitting in front of him.

“I'm sorry.. I came straight from work.” You say, opening your backpack, Swallowing saliva. The cold wood chilled your thighs, making you shiver a little.

“Open to page 203.” His voice deep, His hands Reached slowly to close the book he was reading, with his attention fully on you now, he places it beneath a little drawer on the desk.

His orders were simple and concise, in a tone that brooks no resistance.

You tried to concentrate, you really tried, but his fingers brushed against the paper, the watch on his wrist ticking away at the minutes, like a countdown. Your body was tense without any logical reason.

Well, deep in you, you knew why, and who was making you this way.

“What does Marx mean by class struggle?” He asks, looking at the text.

You stayed silent, you didn't even read the first paragraph.

“Well?” His voice raised a little, almost demanding. “You didn't read it, did you?” His brow furrowed.

“I–I'm trying. I swear.. I just…”

The silence felt like a slap in the face, and for a moment the weight of the room was heavier. Logan slammed the book down on the desk, making you jump slightly. His eyes stare into yours.

“you said you wanted my help, you wanted to pass.” His hands kept on the book.

“I do.. I really do.” You start, trying to convince him, you didn't want to fail his subject.

“Then why don't you commit to this?”

“I have too many things in my mind, work.. other subjects” You explain, sighing, avoiding his eye contact now.

“And isn't history a subject you have to commit to as well?” He kept going, every time more intense.

You are feeling so frustrated now, almost wanting to cry for the raising of his voice, and how angry he seemed to be at you. Logan lays back on his chair, sighing deeply. His hand taking off his glasses and letting them fall on the wooden desk.

After a while he speaks again, rejoining again. “We'll try something new.” Something dirty in his tone that made you tremble slightly.

“Get up.” He says, although he's more calm down, the annoyance doesn't let go of him yet.

And you did.

“desk.”

“What?” your brow furrowed, looking at him.

“Up. On. The. Desk.” His raspy voice quickened your pulse again, and you could see him move his chair aside, making room for you. You obey with a blush on your face. Then he gets closer, His big hands explore, starting to caress your waist.

“Mr. Howlett–” Your voice sounds quite breathy, but not doing anything to pull away. as the touches begin to heat up everything, his fingers unbutton your pants. He didn't say a word until he left you in your underwear.

“you better try.”

You hate that this situation makes you wet.

Without much ceremony, he sat you on his lap, it was a situation worse than embarrassing, and it is worse that you let him do it. His warm hand never left your waist, keeping you in place. You listen to his belt clicking behind you, it is going to happen.

Silently he accommodates you slowly. His cock, as far as you could see, was big and thick, almost like in your imagination.

“Sit, take it all the way down.” He whispered in your ear.

You swallow. Your legs were shaking as you settled on top of him, your knees on the sides of the chair, next to his thighs. You felt his tip gently brush against you, making you shudder.

“L-logan..” You bite your lower lip, his hands wrapped around your waist, caressing the skin softly.

“Shh.. not a word. Sit.” He guides you again, his tone more gentle.

You slowly sat up, feeling him fill you inch by inch. It was difficult not to moan when he was all the way in. you could feel how thick he was, opening you up mercilessly. you were already getting agitated and unconsciously, your hips moved by reflex but his hand kept you still.

“No.” His voice firm as his hand.

“You're going to stay still.”

“But, Logan–”

“No, you listen to me.” He says, squeezing your hip roughly. “You're going to stay here, quiet, paying attention and reading out loud.”

He leaned forward onto the desk, his chest pressed against your back. His hands left your hips, grabbing the book he had left on the table. not taking you off him, as if he weren't hard inside you. As if you weren't dripping wet, pulsing around him.

“start with paragraph two.”

You bit your lip, your voice only managed to come out shaky. “S–social classes… for m-marxism are defined by the relations o-of…production, that is—”

“Slower.” He whispered in your ear.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you tried to concentrate with all your might. But he was still there, inside, hard and heavy. every inch of him makes it difficult to think straight.

“Do you want to pass this class, Miss?” His gruff voice almost made you melt around him.

“I do.” You mutter.

“Then show me.”

You tried to move your hips again, only to be stopped by him again. “Did I say you could move?”

“N-no..” You whisper, already feeling frustrated.

“Exactly.” He kept you steady on his cock, not letting you move, not even squirm on him.

So you keep going, Reading slowly and out loud, with a broken voice, your nipples aching beneath your shirt and his cock throbbing inside of you. It takes you a few minutes more than normal to finish one. single. paragraph. it's pure torture .

“It wasn't that hard, wasn't it?” He whispers. “See? you just needed a little motivation.”

His hand goes a little lower, finding your puffy clit His thick fingers starting to rub it gently, You tremble, letting out a breathy moan. “L-logan..” Your eyes go shut, enjoying the stimulation he was giving you, your hips move towards his hand, and it pulls away quickly just as it began.

“concentrate.” He says as you whine.

You sigh, hating his teasing and how wet it makes you when he toys with you. His hands go to your hips, caressing you softly, almost soothingly for being so cruel with you. you start a new paragraph, only to be cut off a few lines later by him.

“Then what will be the goal of the revolution?” He whispered, his nose buried on your neck.

“T–the revolution will aim to achieve a perfect society where there is neither ... .exploiters nor exploited…” You answered correctly, making him smirk.

“That's my good girl. that's what you needed, hmm?” He praised you, feeling you clench around him when he said a pet name to your ear.

“Just one more paragraph, angel.” He whispered, his hands Going up to your boobs, squeezing them gently underneath your shirt. You started reading it, still somewhat stumbling and shaky, but faster than before.

Reading the last sentence, you simply relax against him, biting your lower lip. “G-god..”

“You're tired already?” He whispered. “Just a short page, I still have many more things to explain to you..” you whine in response, completely refused to read more with this torture. “I didn't say we're finished.”

“No please.. i-i can't do this anymore” You moan breathly.

“you're such a needy thing.” He groaned, feeling how you squeeze him again. “cant even fucking read something and staying obedient.” His hand finds your clit again, toying with it gently, Your hips move, rubbing yourself against his calloused fingers.

You whimper, bouncing softly on his thick cock, His groans just makes you wetter, the tip brushes that sweet spot that makes you fold every time. But as quickly as it started, you started to get tired within minutes.

“Now what, bunny? Have you sung yet?” He huffs.

With a little force, he gets up from the chair, without leaving you yet, pressing you down onto the cold desk. You moaned, arching your back.

“You're going to take it now, I've been wanting this since I saw you looking at me with those eyes in class, don't think I didn't notice.” He mutters as he slowly starts to move, slowly getting in and out, The sound of skins clashing, your low moans and Logan's grunts provided the soundtrack for the moment.

“Are you like this with all the teachers? huh?”

“Answer when I talk to you.” He says, Expecting an answer, You were too caught up in the moment, too dumb to think straight.

“No! fuck.. I-i'm sorry..” You whisper, closing your eyes.

Your knuckles turned white as you held on to the desk, your cheek pressed against the wood. Logan's pace was brutal now, dragging moans from your lips with each thrust, his hips slamming into you with growing urgency.

“Dirty girl, feel what you do to me.”

Your walls clench around him as he talks to you, you only nodding, your legs tremble, His hand reaches around to rub your clit again, this time without mercy. Fast. Intentional.

"Logan..please! 'm close, I need—”

"Then come," he growled, slamming into you. "Show me how much you've learned, angel. fuck come on”

That was all it took. Your body trembled with the intensity of your climax, clenching around him so tight he groaned your name, fucking you through it.

“Fuck–baby…” He groaned, almost losing it as it came out of you, without wasting time it began to stroke himself. hot, white spurts of cum spilled over on your back. warm and messy as he groaned deep and low, collapsing forward, panting against your shoulder.

A beat of silence. Just you and him, both tired.

“Read everything for the next lesson.” He said breathlessly.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #jo writes 💌#wolverine x reader #wolverine one shot #hugh jackman #i ⁠♡ logan #logan howlett x you #logan howlet smut #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett smut #logan wolverine

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kukuandkookie · 2 days ago

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Hey everyone, OP here again because I have seen these responses that are more critical of the Doylist approach (including this one):

And I feel like clarifying some things. Please note I am not writing this from a defensive position because I do not feel like anyone is attacking me—in fact, these are all good points. The only reason I’m writing this is because I’m someone who sometimes can’t shut up, likes thinking about things, and trying to put them into words in a way that covers everything so the other party can understand.

So here’s specifically why I’m now writing this addition: because I want to clarify some things just in case some people will come to assume I think it’s okay or even possible to talk about the author’s intent as if we know for sure what they were intending.

I admittedly hadn’t heard about the “Watsonian” versus “Doylist” way of looking at narratives until now, but I think they’re kind of neat distinctions that help immediately clarify sort of what I’m talking about…

But I agree with the main Tumblr post explaining these terms that I came across when I searched them up (I’ve underlined the main point I want to…well, underline here):

(This was a screenshot posted on Reddit so I cropped it for convenience, but please note the reblog is by the person who wrote the original post, so I haven’t removed OP’s username (as I prefer to credit things if possible)).

You’ll notice that what I’ve highlighted is where OP says “but it's very difficult (and imo often useless, though there are exceptions) to try to argue one kind of explanation with the other kind,” because that’s my main gripe in my original post.

I was perplexed by what was happening with the discussion around Frieren where someone looks at the story from a writing perspective and critiques the writing choice that is making the demon horde all evil, yet fans will defend it using the diegetic, in-universe logic and lore.

So to now alter my statement using these new, more concise terms, I was basically trying to say I find it reductive when someone brings up a Doylist argument but fans respond with a Watsonian one.

(🔼 This first line, with the part I highlighted specifically, is basically where I could instead say “…readers using a Watsonian argument against someone who uses a Doylist argument to critique a series.”)

Now please note that I also can totally see why relying too heavily on solely a Doylist argument would be detrimental to how we consume a piece of fiction as well.

If you make too many assumptions from a Doylist perspective, you may end up making a presumption about the author that is unfair to the work and to the author.

For example, I’m always seeing anti versus pro-ship discourse on Twitter, where people now treat the term “pro-ship” like it means “problematic shipping,” and I always feel the need to clarify it just means being okay with shipping and having a ship and let ship attitude that is against harassment, but I also recognize that it’s evolved to become more anti-censorship over the years (to the point many pro-shippers will seem to an anti as if they’re more about supporting dark media over the idea of “ship and let ship”), as the anti and pro-ship discourse grows more intense. And I am fully in support of this anti-censorship stance!

If asked to pick between the two labels, I’d identify as a pro-shipper myself, and that includes the anti-censorship aspect, and that means I don’t see anything wrong with creators creating what they want, even when the things they make are uncomfortable or very dark. Which is all just context for me to try and say that I’m firmly of the mindset that an author’s works are not immediately representative of them as a person.

I worry this disclaimer isn’t as clear in my original piece, although I did try to add it, as these underlined bits in the screenshots below were meant to convey:

So now that I have those screenshots out of the way, I’d like to make one last clarification, using the last screenshot to do so:

When I said “interrogate what some of its choices may be conveying to its audience [but the potential answer you’ll arrive at isn’t set in stone because it will vary from person to person],” I meant it. In fact, I’ve been thinking that I dislike that I used “answer” when I said “the answer itself is multifaceted and nuanced,” because “answer” makes us think of a distinct truth. I wish I had used something more like “the answer you think of” or “the conclusion you arrive at” or “the response you come up with” etc instead.

This is actually why I don’t want to say my point is solely to rely on a Watsonian or Doylist perspective.

There’s a reason I used “writing perspective” throughout my post, and my intention was to say that I think more people can benefit from looking at a piece of media and wondering, “When the writer came up with this idea, what were they trying to convey, if anything at all? What does it feel like it ends up conveying instead?”

The person who explained what Watsonian versus Doylist means also used an example of a character who has a wound that is first described in one place before being said in another instance to be in a different place, and how the explanation may differ between someone using a Watsonian or Doylist perspective:

But the emphasis in my original post isn’t just in trying to assume what was going through the writer’s head, including in simpler things like a continuity error, it’s also to look at the bigger picture of a writing choice from a thematic standpoint.

Like what I want to emphasize here is that I don’t just hope more people will adopt a Doylist mindset, I also hope more people will think about the (potential) themes of a work (which I realize is asking a lot of people, hence why my piece maybe reads like I’m advocating solely for a Doylist mindset, because asking people to treat the media they consume the way we were taught to read things in school feels both impossible and will sound maybe condescending to those people I’m critiquing 😅).

Basically what I’m saying is that the focus won’t just be on little details like “why are the curtains blue” or “why did the wound move on the character’s body” or “why was the villain seen in the background wielding their weapon from season 1 when they have a new weapon in season 2.”

I also want people to think about what deeper ideas they may feel like they and others are receiving from a work.

So to rapid-fire address the points from the three people who are critiquing the Doylist method here, I hope my original post can also remind us that:

Yes, do not perform any attempt at armchair psychology on the writer.

No, a writer’s work is not immediately reflective of who they are, nor does it mean you can even assume you know their entire personality, mindset, beliefs, etc from their work.

No, do not diagnose the writer based off your own assumptions of who they are from their work.

Yes, please do consider other contexts surrounding why their work contains the things it does (eg I mentioned in my original post how people critique the writing choice by Asian writers who focus on pale skin as a sign of utmost beauty, and as an Asian myself, while I don’t like this belief by Asians, I also hope westerners will realize the history behind this beauty standard is more complex than just “because Asians admire white people”).

This last point is actually really important to me—as I said, I am an Asian, so I recognize sometimes that Asians can write or believe things that don’t feel as “progressive” as us in the west, but we need to consider the cultural and even historical nuances behind why—eg many Asians seem more okay with writing dark fiction, such as having boys’ love works that feature rape more than mlm works in the west would, and this can be attributed to Asians navigating a society more strongly tied to sexual repression and the patriarchy. And by extension of recognizing these nuances, we can also acknowledge that just because Asian BL is often “more problematic,” it doesn’t mean it’s less valid than western BL or that it’s not meaningful representation for Asians.

I’m a danmei fan who’s often frustrated by the system of censorship in China, but even I often feel the need to explain that no, it’s not that the entire country is naturally homophobic. The current homophobic censorship by the government and the government’s version of ideal masculinity were actually all taught to Chinese people by the west who colonized China. But even then, the LGBTQ+ are not explicitly illegal in China, and many people make LGBTQ+ works that, due to censorship, are still meaningful representation to Chinese people, even if BL as a category of fiction is often dismissed as women fetishizing gays and danmei is similarly often criticized as such in the west. I find it reductive to assume it’s all about the sexiness of men fucking when it comes to Asian BL, especially since danmei has uniquely evolved to focus more on plot and genre to kind of obscure the romance from potentially being noticed and censored. And at the same time, even as censorship exists in China, it’s a spectrum where cdramas are the most censored, then donghua, then manhua, then audio dramas, then novels, with video games somewhere in between (because I guess being able to see the gayness explicitly on-screen makes it more easily noticeable, hence the stronger censorship, and all the more so for cdramas because they feature real human bodies). But even when a Chinese danmei work is censored, like a cdrama, I wish westerners wouldn’t call it “bromance” as they often do, because the crew’s intent is still clearly to make a BL, even under censorship, and we should respect that. So if you see queer-coding in a Chinese work, as it’s very common (often done under the “sworn brother” concept), I wish people would embrace it rather than view it as queer-baiting, because Chinese creators can’t afford to queer-bait. By writing queer works even under a system of censorship, they are actively resisting the system and we should respect that.

That above is an example of all the nuances I hope people will consider when they engage with danmei.

Like I am a fan of the 188男团, a series of darker danmei novels from Shui Qian Cheng that feature many “problematic” things, and I find it very reductive when I see reviews for her novels on NovelUpdates that rate her work one star just for including non-con, having terrible asshole main characters, or worst yet, when people say they think the author is cool with rape because of what she wrote and that’s why they’re rating her work one star.

But at the same time, there are indeed sometimes more statements about an author’s beliefs/mindset/morals that you can make from a Doylist perspective that people generally accept as truth, like “some of JK Rowling’s decisions on lore or names come across as racist at worst and ignorant at best,” but I’m looking more for statements like “JK Rowling’s portrayal of goblins read as perpetuating antisemitism and may demonstrate her underlying prejudices.”

You can see how the second statement is more thematic and can be seen as subjective, as you can’t as easily convince everyone that the Harry Potter goblins are antisemitic archetypes while you can more easily convince everyone that Cho Chang is a racist (or at least ignorant) name.

And my focus in my original post is on encouraging (using a Doylist approach) people to dig for these more so subjective themes in a work!

That’s why I emphasized a writing perspective rather than just discussing the writers themselves, with just discussing the writers themselves being something someone might do if relying too heavily on a Doylist approach.

For example, when everyone hated Damian Wayne after he first arrived in DC comics because he was a spoiled, arrogant jerk, I wished people would consider the writing perspective that this was the writers laying a foundation for his future growth and development into less of a spoiled, arrogant jerk.

Rather than assume what the writers themselves intended as people when making a work (eg “is EL James cool with misogyny because of what she wrote in 50 Shades”), I hope people will consider just what the writers as writers intended to get across to their audience and what it actually ends up getting across to you as an individual and then to others as a whole (eg “50 Shades is written to indulge in sexual fantasy and it pushes this to extremes. While its darker tones can end up making the novel feel like it perpetuates misogynistic ideas and the patriarchy, it does also give women a place to vent darker sexual desires in a controlled setting, and this can be both good and bad because [insert thesis and maybe essay here]”).

I said in my second reblog of my original post that it’s good to interrogate some of the writing choices and what they convey to the audience, and I stated that “at the same time, this answer won’t be entirely clear-cut because each person who thinks it over will have different opinions,” and I still mean that.

I’m not saying Frieren or its author are conservative or fascist for painting the demons as an irredeemable species. Whether it feels like it is will vary from audience member to audience member.

But considering it is true Frieren attracts a lot of right-wing fans, demonstrating that the author’s choice of writing the demon horde as entirely and always evil can be an issue, I still think it’s valuable to question this writing choice as a writing choice.

It just doesn’t mean we can know what the author truly intended or what they’re like in real life!

And okay, I’ve obviously harped on Frieren a lot and I feel bad that I did it again, but it’s just the easiest example of what I’m trying to convey. I hope this time it makes even more sense, especially since I know the formatting of this reblog is kind of messy. 😅

Not a lot of energy to type up a detailed rant especially since I have a lot of other things I need to write, but…

Interesting phenomenon I’ve picked up recently (although this has always been an issue) is readers treating characters and fictional worlds as real and using that as an argument against someone who critiques the writers of the series behind those characters/worlds.

What does that mean?

Specifically, the reason it’s bothering me enough now to write this out is because I saw it a day ago when I saw a tweet criticizing Frieren (is that how you spell it?) as coming across as fascist because the bad guys in it are a demon horde completely incapable of empathy or goodness whatsoever. The OP specifically asked, “Why did the author write it like that? Doesn’t that sound like fascist messaging?”

Which okay, perhaps the way they worded it was obnoxious, because “fascist” is a word that gets thrown around sometimes to the point it can lose its meaning and people forget how bad it really is…

But fans of Frieren were defending it by saying, “Well, the bad guys aren’t capable of goodness ever so that’s why they have to be completely wiped out in the series!” One artist even qrt-ed it with a comic showing that someone trying to be nice to a demon will be killed, captioning it as “this literally happens in the series” and they got a shit-ton of likes��even though it completely misses the point of OP’s argument??

OP didn’t say Frieren the character is a fascist or that she as a character should try to extend sympathy to fictional demons that we know in her world are incapable of being better.

The question lies in why the author chose to write the world like this. In truth, you can’t easily glean an author’s morality from the fiction they write (Neil Gaiman is perhaps, most recently, a horrific and unfortunate example of this), because humans are too complex for that…

But when it comes to prejudice, it can seep into one’s work in uncomfortable ways.

For example, when people accused the Attack on Titan writer of including things in their work that felt supportive of Imperial Japan, or when Asian writers are criticized for the preference for pale skin in their work, or when Han Chinese danmei authors stereotype non-Han ethnicities in works set in ancient times.

So when OP asks why the Frieren author was comfortable with writing the antagonist as an entire species of evil beings, that’s fair to ask from a writing standpoint. It doesn’t matter that diegetically within the lore, the demons will never ever be good and that you wanting a demon to be good could get you killed—because those demons aren’t real. They are a product of the writer’s imagination…so why did the writer imagine them as an evil mass horde that deserves to be slaughtered?

And no, most people don’t have a problem with a villain who is genuinely evil. The reason Frieren gets special attention here is because it’s about an entire species—the main question is simply why, how come, and what the significance of that is, along with how it may demonstrate or even perpetuate a certain ideology, which in this case, can be seen as dangerous.

Now with that being said, I’m not a fan of Frieren or even someone who has tried it for myself, so I can’t properly critique it, nor would I make actual assumptions on the writer’s views. I’m simply saying that OP asked a question from a writing perspective, but rather than consider the nuances behind the writing choice OP was questioning, Frieren defenders defended it as if the demons were a real thing you needed to worry about where “you can’t question it because if you do and try to be nice to them, they’ll kill you!”

Again, OP did not ask why Frieren as a character doesn’t look for more good demons. OP asked why the author of Frieren the series wrote the theme this way.

Now for another example, The Legend of Korra, which has recently seen an uptick in discourse due to a new Avatar series that says being the Avatar is now a bad thing, which many Korra haters blame on Korra the character.

What I noticed is someone pointing out that the writers behind The Legend of Korra as a show constantly put her in punishing situations where she was violated and thrown around like a ragdoll much more than Aang was, and they said they felt like it was internalized misogyny by the writers.

People responded that Korra was always meant to be a darker show and, most frustrating of all—just as they did with Frieren—they spoke about the character as if she was real, because “well she was just way more headstrong than Aang so she got herself in all kinds of fucked up situations!”

Which, okay, yes, we can glean that an obvious flaw of Korra’s is her temper and stubbornness, but again, that wasn’t OP’s point. OP specifically wondered why the writers made Korra like this.

Like why make the female character so impetuous that she seems deserving of punishment through violation?

It doesn’t matter that Aang and Korra have fundamentally different personalities and approaches to battle in this particular discussion because the main point OP brought up comes back to writing choices. This invites us to consider the series critically from a writing perspective.

No matter how mad Korra makes you as a character, she’s still just a character—she’s just words on a page.

Her “choices” aren’t her choices at all because they were choices made by the writing staff, and it’s fair for some people to wonder why a writing staff would write her the way they did. Especially since they could still write her as headstrong and stubborn without making it so that everything always somehow seems like her fault to viewers, to the point no one is satisfied (because ATLA fans think she was too full of herself and thus ruined everything even as they think she deserves the punishment the series gives her, while Korra fans dislike that the writers put her through so much hell).

So with all that being said, I basically wish sometimes people would treat stories as actual stories. I know it’s easy to get emotionally attached to a fictional story or to emotionally respond to a character, whether they’re super amazing or super annoying, but at the end of the day fiction is still fiction and characters are still characters. Even if “normies” can’t look at things from a writing perspective, I wish they could look at a series as just that—a fictional series.

I’m not a fan of or even someone particularly well-versed in The Legend of Korra or anything, but I can still tell how silly it is when someone questions the writers and writing choices of a show and fans of the series as a whole respond that “actually it’s fine because it’s meant to be darker and Korra is flawed so she’s the one who makes a mess of things.” That doesn’t engage with anything in any critical or thoughtful manner.

Like yeah, we get it—the character of Korra is super stubborn so she messed up a lot in the plot and it backfired on her, or the character of the demons in Frieren are indeed irredeemable and it’s pointless to discuss otherwise. But who’s the one making them so flawed in the first place? They don’t actually exist; their traits and what happens to them are all details assigned by the writer(s). So it isn’t pointless to question why a writer chose to write these things the way they did.

Of course, you should not speculate either, and calling Frieren the series “fascist,” even in terms of its messaging, may be going too far, but thinking more critically about the different series you consume is usually a good thing.

If nothing else, it exercises your brain, which I’m starting to get worried that people refuse to use.

Remember: no matter how much a fictional character pisses you off, they’re still merely a fictional character who is a tool within the narrative. Some characters, like Boruto or Damian Wayne, are meant to be spoiled brats who go through character development, and other characters or themes or plot developments may be worthy of criticism even if they “make sense” within the established lore.

#kuku rambles #long post #I’m sorry if this feels overwhelming to the people I’m reblogging from…!#I just like to cover all my bases when I write or even talk so I tend to ramble 🥲#again I’m not on the defensive and I didn’t see your guys’ words as an attack!#I just wanted to clarify hopefully to anyone who assumes otherwise that I’m not saying you should rely solely on a Doylist approach #and I recommend *not* assuming you know the author as a person solely from what they write in their fictional stories 🙏

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linderosse · 1 day ago

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Heya folks! I'm Lin! Some of you may know me as the author of a humble Zeldas-meet comic series called the Wielders of Wisdom, part of my larger Zelda AU called Wisdomverse.

Every creator has different views on how content should be interpreted, and I figure I should make mine clear for folks who are interested, as well as clarify some things about the Wisdomverse and the history of its creation and influences. These are just some of my thoughts on the series and fandom as a whole with respect to my comics; I'm taking this opportunity to state them in text form.

Extremely, extremely long post. Folks who know me know I like writing longposts-- this is even longer. You have been warned!

Please feel free to read or ignore as you wish! There is a Tl;dr section at the end; please feel free to skip to it.

As always, I reserve the right to edit parts of this if my views change, or if I'm convinced otherwise. And as always, I welcome everyone else’s thoughts on the matter.

Why I Create:

I began the Wisdomverse because I love the Zelda series.

I've been a Zelda fan for nearly twenty years now, and have completed every single mainline game, plus a fair few of the others, and 100%ed a few of them or played challenge modes as well. The Zelda series has its flaws and it definitely has some inconsistencies. But each new game continues to amaze me nonetheless.

Wielders of Wisdom, part of the Wisdomverse AU, is a comic series that features the Zeldas summoning each other to help deal with different problems in their own eras. As a tactical RPG superfan (FE!!! TriStrat!!!) and a huge fan of fairplay mystery plots, I wanted to write a story featuring Wisdom at its core. I've now been working on the Wisdomverse off and on for about two years, maybe a little more, though theories and characterizations from much longer ago have made it in.

I am super glad that my comic has brought people to Zelda. It’s so cool to hear that people started playing the games because they saw my artwork.

I have a story I want to share, and mysteries I want the characters to solve. I look forward to continuing it.

The Influence of LU

On one hand, the Wisdomverse began as an LU spinoff.

I created the Wielders with the LU Chain in mind— not necessarily based on LU canon, but based on mine and others’ versions of the Chain at the time using our interpretations of the Zelda games themselves as source material. The core characterizations of LU are brilliant, and I love them— particularly the combination of Links that make up Legend and Four. I had seen Link-meets before, but combining Links was a novel idea to me. It allowed me to express my love for the lesser known Zelda games just as much as the popular ones.

And folks, LU sparked so much Zelda fan content, which was difficult to find at scale before. I was there in the old-ish days (not the truly old days, I must admit), writing Zelda fanfic and reading it on FFnet (under a different username which shall not be named 😆). LU made it so much easier! The comic is great too, but the framework revitalized my love of the Zelda fandom.

My characters in Wisdomverse still use the LU fanon Zelda nicknames as a tribute to all of us LU fans out there. I came up with everything else about the girls, but not their nicknames. I was there for the tail end of those discussions, and adopted the nicknames because I can't see the Zeldas any other way now. I can, of course, explain why we chose each and every one of those nicknames. But the nicknames do not belong to me; nor to the creator of LU. They are a creation of the LU fandom. Shoutout to those guys, y'all are great.

Characters of my Own

On the other hand, I… have actually seen folks assume that all my work in personalizing the Zeldas for my comics, writing their characters, rebalancing and clarifying their powers and abilities, setting up their stories, and designing their outfits and jobs to make them as unique as possible— that this was all done by the creator of LU as well. I have been sent angry and confused DMs because I made certain decisions, like making Tetra and Phantom different characters, like they are in the canon games, despite Wind also representing Spirit Tracks in LU. Or making Legend and Fable twins when Jojo confirmed they’re not related in LU— ironic, considering that it seems to be the opposite sentiment that sparked the newer discourse. This is actually why I made that info post about it a year or two back, if anyone is wondering.

These assumptions were a little sad to see, of course. I understand the frustration when one's work is attributed to someone else. I wasn't really offended by the mistake, though. It is reasonable, in a fandom as large as Zelda, for ideas to be misattributed. Most folks understood completely when I corrected them. The ones that didn't, I simply ignored.

Fans

In fact, in my experience, LU fans have almost always been super polite and excited to learn new things about the franchise, or learn new headcanons and ways to connect the dots between canon elements. Writing “The Secrets We Keep” is a lot of fun, because I know quite a lot about the games, and I get to work it into the story and hear people go, “Oh, I didn’t know that! And you’ve connected these two things? That’s so cool!” I love getting to see that side of the fandom.

Many LU fans I’ve met also know a ton about the franchise— I never thought I could learn so many new things about a series I already know very well! From glitches and exploits to theories about the origin of weapons and materials; I love hearing it. Some of it has been incorporated into Wisdomverse :) (but not the glitches and exploits; that would be cheating XD).

As I said, the very few folks that were rude, I ignored. That’s to be expected in any group of people.

Building on Others’ Ideas

I myself have used headcanons that belong to other people. Shoutout to raycatzdraws and snowylynxxx for their Spirit design that I iterated on. I definitely wasn’t the originator of the Legend|Fable siblings hc, or the hc that Wild had a sister, etc. Of course, I know the reasons and canon source material for all those hcs. But I no longer know who first connected the dots to come up with them.

Fandom is hard to source. Heck, I’ve seen some people who came to Wisdomverse through other sites assume that I created LU (of course I did not). One commenter on a YouTube video even assumed that Fable’s Cane of Somaria from the Wisdomverse was inspiration for the trirod in the actual Echoes of Wisdom game. (I wish! The Cane is simply a canon item from ALttP/OoA; I promise I had no hand in EoW’s development). Such is the way of life in a convoluted fandom. Ray said it best in a comment somewhere I still remember— we’re all out here playing a game of fandom telephone.

Fandom Telephone

As I’ve been saying for years on stream, that’s one of the things I like best about the Zelda fandom: the fact that there are so many interpretations of everything, and all of us build on each others’ work. The Silmarillion and MDZS fandoms are the same way (shoutout to fandoms where the source material contradicts itself and fans interpret things however they want 😆). Unlike in a normal game of telephone, however, the result at the end of the line is still just as valid as the original message. It’s about creativity, not accuracy. A game of telephone is boring as hell if everyone just perfectly repeats the initial phrase. Variety is the spice of creation.

I personally prefer intentional variety based on interpretations of the games' canon. In fact, I tend to stick as close to canon as possible while telling the story I want to tell. Folks who've read The Secrets We Keep are probably used to my long Game Notes for each chapter.

But accidental variety works too! You don’t have to stick to canon if you don't want to! And no one at all should be enforcing that.

Gatekeeping

I've finished every mainline Zelda game. I have 100%ed many of them, and played some on challenge modes. I know all popular timeline theories by heart, including of course my own timeline for Wisdomverse. I can probably list the titles, release years, and consoles of most Zelda games, plus tons of other useless trivia. To be clear, I knew most of this before discovering LU.

I’d like to think I’m therefore qualified to say: let everyone write or draw or play what they want!

You are still a fan if the only Zelda game you’ve played is Breath of the Wild! You are still a fan if you’ve never played a Zelda game and just love LU! You are still a fan if you’ve never read LU either and are just vibin’ with the characters on AO3! You are still a fan if you don’t know what LU is but think the Wisdomverse girls are cool!

You can check my old posts to confirm that I’ve said this over and over again— I ain’t here to gatekeep the Zelda fandom. No one should be. There is no excuse for anyone to belittle someone for not knowing a detail about the games. Or for having a particular viewpoint on the series. The Zelda fandom has always been a wholesome place, and I know we can keep it that way.

And since tons of Zelda and LU fans are just as knowledgeable about the series as me, if not more, I’m sure all of us are happy to tell folks anything they’d like to know— only if they want to know it, because there should never be requirements to be in a fandom.

Perhaps because I’m from the Silm fandom, I am used to this sentiment. I’ve read the Silmarillion four times, but tons of folks just read the wiki pages or fics and are totally accepted into the fandom. I personally believe Zelda— any fandom, really — should be just as open and free.

Is Wisdomverse still a part of LU?

People have been asking me this for a while. I’ve responded to it in the past, but my answer may have changed slightly.

LU is a great story, and I have to give Jojo massive credit for the amazing framework, designs, and characterization. The core characters that make up the LU Links still match the Wis Zeldas, of course, and The Secrets We Keep is still very much continuing starring the LU Links as I envision them.

But many things about the Wisdomverse have deviated from LU canon now— not because I have changed them, but because I adopted these traits into my stories long before Jojo clarified them about her Links. At this point, the Wisdomverse Info page clarifies all theories that differ from the games themselves, not just LU. Jojo has made decisions that fit the story she wants to tell, and I have made different ones that fit my story.

In Wisdomverse, Spirit and Phantom exist separately from Tetra and Wind, like in Zelda canon. Shadow and the FSA manga are also canon, because the plot fits neatly into Four's character arc in the games. TotK is canon; I have already released my future Wild and Flora designs. The events of Hyrule Warriors are canon. The visiting Links that accompanied Legend in Triforce Heroes are Silent and Hyrule. Legend and Fable are twins, because I follow the ALttP siblings theory. And my comic Echo of the Past has made it quite clear that Echoes of Wisdom and Cadence of Hyrule are canon as well, and I have plans for them :).

There are probably more changes as well; these are the ones I can remember off the top of my head. As far as I know, none of these things are true anymore in base LU.

Some of these changes were imposed to make my series more accurate to the games. Some of them were imposed because that was how I viewed the series, long before LU even existed. And some of them were imposed so I can tell the story I want to tell.

Tagging

I have been using “wis sun” “wis echo” “wisdomverse” “wielders of wisdom” etc tags for my stuff for a while now.

Echo of the Past, for example, is entirely my own thing, and has no LU influence or characters whatsoever. The idea to combine EoW, CoH, and AoL into Echo was mine and mine alone. Silent, Echo, Dawn, and the Prince are all my characters, and are using my designs and personalities. I don’t think that counts as LU anymore, so I removed all the LU tags when posting. I don’t mind if you want to tag it as LU when reblogging, though! From a practical standpoint, that only helps me out XD.

To be clear, when I use the LU Link designs, I will still tag the post with their info. The creator deserves credit for their design, and folks who chance upon the art deserve to know I did not create the LU Links.

This means that I am possibly the one creator that isn’t technically writing/drawing LU but is kind of okay with my posts being tagged as LU.

But please also tag them as Wisdomverse. I put a lot of work into my characters. I want people to know that.

And please don't tag other creators' works as Linked Universe. I allow it at the moment because of the specifics of the Wisdomverse, and the fact that I want to credit LU for the nine Link designs I'm using along with my Zeldas. I don't think any other creators with separate AUs allow this.

Building off of my Works

That said, I hope no one feels like I am imposing my views over the LU characters— or even my Zeldas.

I stated that I view Dusk as ace, for example, and that Fable is lesbian. But if you want to use the Wisdomverse framework, summoning system, and characterization while shipping Dusk with Midna, or Fable with Legend or something, be my guest!

I personally don’t mind anyone interpreting my characters in any way as long as you’re aware that I believe differently. I may even state that I personally disagree with that part of the interpretation, but that’s totally fine! Do what you wish! If you were inspired by me, feel free to tag me— I love it. Other creators may not share this opinion, and that is also completely valid, but I love to see people build on my ideas, even if they’re taking their own spin on it.

I only ask that folks don’t directly ship the Zeldas with each other, because no matter what canon you’re using, they’re all direct descendants of each other, and that… gets a bit icky. I actually personally don't mind Linkcest (not a fan, but not opposed to it), but the LU creator has requested that folks don't ship their Links and I respect that. I guess if you want to ship the Links that I designed: Spirit, Silent, or post-TotK Wild... go for it? I obviously ship those three with their Zeldas, but I ain't about to stop folks from making a really, really strange crackship XD.

TL;DR

Can’t deny the massive influence LU has had on the Zelda fandom as a whole. I appreciate it!

However, it is a bit sad to see my ideas credited to LU sometimes.

The Wisdomverse has deviated quite a bit from LU at this point, and is sort of its own thing that sometimes uses the LU designs and characterizations for the Links. 2.5/11 Links in Wis use my own designs. All 11 Zeldas use my own designs.

I don’t mind if you tag Wis content as LU when applicable! Please also tag it as Wisdomverse though— I’d appreciate that :).

LU fans have almost always been very knowledgeable and polite to me in the past. Shoutout to the LU fandom. Y’all are great.

Anyone who wants can be a Zelda fan! No gameplay required, and no gatekeeping allowed.

Anyone who wants can make fan content interpreting my work in any way; I will not be offended!

The Zelda community has always been a wholesome place to me, and I hope to see it continue that way.

Congrats on making it this far— or for skipping to the tl;dr’s :).

Thanks for reading, and see you around!

Masterpost

#wisdomverse #wielders of wisdom #zelda #lin thinks #lin responds

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holylulusworld · 2 days ago

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Mr. Holmes' Maid (7)

Summary: You’re his maid.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Maid!Reader

Warnings: angst, power imbalance, master-servant relationship, the reader was an orphan, inappropriate behavior, fluff, bitchy Irene, angry Sherlock, hurt and comfort, miscommunication

Mr. Holmes’ Maid (6)

Mr. Holmes’ maid masterlist

The next few days blend into one another. You didn’t see much of Sherlock, and he didn’t come to you at night.

You spent your time serving tea and enduring Irene Adler’s presence as he buried his nose into documents and police reports.

While you tried to ignore the silence between you and your master, Irene didn’t miss any chance to give snide comments or make sure you knew your place.

Irene Adler was a sharp but also cruel woman. She couldn’t bear sharing Sherlock’s attention with someone as plain and unworthy as a maid. You were nothing but scum in her eyes, not worth the dirt under her nails.

Doing your duty was all you could do. A maid holds no power, and Sherlock was busy discussing the case with Irene. You didn’t dare tell him about the things she said and did to you.

More than once, she tripped you, pushed you around, and poured hot tea over your hands and feet.

Today was the worst day of all. You tried to read a book at Sherlock’s library. It was always open to you, and he was kind enough to teach you to read even better.

Mabel helped you at the orphanage, but Sherlock taught you how to read more difficult words. You are able to read even the most difficult books now, thanks to your master.

“Scum is not allowed at the library,” Irene snapped at you the moment you entered the library to put a book back and get a new one to read before going to bed. You didn’t know she was still around and flinched at her harsh words. “I told you to know your place.”

“I…Master Sherlock allowed me to borrow books,” you defiantly said, holding up the book you wanted to give back.

“As if the likes of you could read!” She snatched the book out of your hands before backhanding you with it. “A useless maid and a thief, too. I’ll talk to Sherlock about you.”

“Master Sherlock knows I borrowed the book.” You sniffled and tried to get the book back to put it back on the shelf. Sherlock likes to have his books in order.

“You should watch your tongue and stop with that attitude,” she huffed and flung the book across the room. “The moment I’m Mrs. Sherlock Holmes, you'll be back on the street where you belong. Now get out of here!”

You stormed out of the room, choking on your tears. Sherlock wasn’t around; he was out for another investigation, so he couldn’t see you lock yourself into your room to cry your eyes out.

“Maid?” Sherlock knocked on your door later at night. He was seeking your closeness, wondering why you locked the door for the first time since he took you in. “Y/N, is something wrong? Aren’t you feeling well?”

He pressed his forehead against the door, sighing deeply. All Sherlock wanted was to hold you in his arms after days filled with the new investigation and Irene Adler.

“Maid, are you mad at me? Please let me in.” He gently knocked again. “Have a good night, then. We can talk in the morning.”

The next morning, you silently packed up your things. Irene made it clear that you are no longer welcome at Sherlock’s home, and he didn’t stop her. Even if he wasn’t around when Irene attacked you, he must’ve known she hates you and wanted you gone. You were sure about it.

The seamstress offered help, and now the time had come to accept her generous offer. You were not too bad at knitting and sewing. If they let you stay at their place, you would pay them back with hard work until you get back on your feet.

Leaving your master and his home was the hardest decision you ever made. There was no place for you here any longer. You didn’t want to wait for Lady Irene to push you out in the dirt, onto the street to live among the sewer rats.

You’ll take what’s left of your pride, if you ever had pride in the first place, and follow the seamstress’s advice.

“Where’s the little maid today?” Irene watched Sherlock sulk. He was staring at the same pages for half an hour and didn’t pay attention to her. “Sherlock, did you hear me?”

“She didn’t leave her room this morning,” he grumbled and waved her off. “Maybe she’s not feeling well. Y/N is always reliable and a good maid.” Sherlock was still wound tight from your silent rejection last night.

“You should get rid of that useless maid. She’s clumsy and a thief,” she accused you of stealing the book you borrowed from Sherlock’s library. “She dared to lie to my face. Can you believe this maid? She deserved more than one slap.”

Sherlock didn’t listen to Irene’s rant until she mentioned you. He lifted his head, glaring daggers into her skull. He slowly rose from his seat, dropping the papers in his hands, to stalk toward Irene.

She stiffened, her breath hitching in her throat when his large palm wrapped around her throat. A scream tore from her throat when her back hit the wall behind her.

Sherlock wasn’t proud of his reaction. He never laid a hand on a dame before. Until now, he saw himself as a protector, not a violent man pushing ladies around.

“You will never touch my maid again,” he growled, his eyes darker than the pits of hell. “Who gave you the right to touch her? I allowed her to use my library, and you come here, uninvited, and dare to change my rules?”

Irene was shaking like a leaf. She was never easily scared, not even by men telling her she could not be a detective. Sherlock’s reaction, though, scared her to the bone.

“If you ever come here again, I’ll make sure you regret it. If I hear you touched my maid again, you will regret that, too. We are done. Get out before I forget myself and break your neck.”

Irene watched Sherlock step away from her. The grim expression on his face told her this wasn’t one of his games. Sherlock was dead serious, and it made her regret her decision to ever lay hands on you.

“She’s just a mediocre maid. We share a past,” she stammered, eyes glued to his angry face. “Sherlock, we are great together.”

“No, we are nothing,” he replied and pointed toward the door. “Pray that you did not hurt my maid too much. If you did, I’ll be coming for you. You have ten seconds to get out of the room and my sight.”

Irene didn’t hesitate to run out of the room, never looking back. Her plan to get Sherlock back and become Mrs. Holmes was shattered with every step she took to leave his home.

“Maid? Y/N?” Sherlock knocked on your door. You were about to sneak out of the house in the dead of the night. Now you were trapped with no chance to escape. “Please open the door. Irene had no right to lay her hands on you.”

“I’ll be gone soon,” you sniffled and wiped your eyes. “She’ll be the lady of the house, and I'll get back to the sewer I came from.”

Sherlock’s heart stopped for a second. He didn’t hesitate this time. Sherlock rammed his shoulder into the door, over and over again, until the lock budged, and he was able to enter your room.

You were clutching your few belongings to your chest, tears in your eyes, seeing the state he was in.

“Maid. My sweet maid…no. Please don’t leave me,” he pounced on you, like his life depended on it. He murmured your name and gently ran his hand over your hair. “I should’ve seen what she’s doing to you, Y/N. I was distracted by the case and…”

He nuzzled your cheek. “No, that’s no excuse for leaving you alone with her. I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?”

“I should go,” you murmured. “If she becomes Mrs. Sherlock Holmes, I cannot stay. She said it herself.” You silently cried into his chest. Sherlock’s heart hurt hearing your desperate sobs.

“She’ll never become Mrs. Holmes,” he said without hesitation. Sherlock wanted to tell you that you are the only woman he wants to wear his name, but he couldn’t rush things. “Please stay with me. I cannot let you go.”

You didn’t fight him when Sherlock picked you up in bridal style to carry you out of your chamber and toward his bedroom.

You hid your face in his shoulder, still sobbing because the thought of leaving your master, your Sherlock, broke your heart.

#sherlock holmes #Mr. Holmes' Maid (7)#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x y/n #maid reader #x reader

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bumblesimagines · 3 days ago

Text

When Fire Meets Fate

Part 15

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Being Queen and King during a time of war is tricky for the inexperienced. But desperate times call for desires to be put aside.

TW/CW: Typically HOTD warnings

~~~

(Y/N) couldn't help the suffocating ache that formed in his chest, stealing the air from his lungs and making it difficult to breathe without feeling the overwhelming urge to weep. It'd been a joint decision, one hastily agreed upon after the slaughter of Jaehaerys, to send their youngest and most vulnerable sons away from Dragonstone to be watched over in the Vale by the distant relative of Rhaenyra, Lady Jeyne Arryn.

It still hurt, however. He couldn't bear the thought of not being able to hold them in his arms when his thoughts were consumed by drowning grief. They'd be safe, he knew that. The Eyrie was impossible to attack, impossible to breach without being immediately spotted and detained, and Lady Jeyne was a notably fierce and stubborn woman. She'd protect them well, at the price of a dragon, of course. No one would agree to such an offer in time of war without gaining something hefty in return.

The boys would have Rhaena, too. Though from the glum look in her eyes, she was far from pleased at the idea. Whilst her sister and would-be brother-in-law flew their dragons, attended meetings, and were allowed to voice their opinions, Rhaena was left to sit idly somewhere else. No one wanted to be the caretaker to some small, fussy princelings, but she was family, and the boys liked her well enough that they wouldn't give her much trouble.

"We cannot spare a fighting dragon, but I send what I can," Rhaenyra explained to Rhaena, glancing at the guards and servants carrying belongings, boxes, and the caged hatchlings toward the ship. They chirped and trilled, confused by the sudden restriction of their freedom. "Stormcloud and Tyraxes are small, but they will grow. It is for you to remind Lady Jeyne of her pledge and persuade her of the urgency of our need."

(Y/N) reached out to the young girl, affectionately cupping her elbow and running his thumb over her clothed skin. She looked so much like her mother in certain lights. It was impossible not to miss Laena's quick wit and Laenor's easy-going humor. "It may not sound as glorious as fighting, Rhaena, but diplomacy is just as important. You will be our voice in the Vale, and what you say and do will reflect on us. These duties are of utmost importance, even if they do not seem like it." (Y/N)'s brows rose with his words, and Rhaena gave a small nod of understanding, but her lips remained turned downward.

The gravel crunched beneath the weight of his boots as he approached the dragonkeepers huddled around the glimmering dragon eggs. It'd taken much discussion and convincing for the dragonkeepers to agree to hand them over for the Vale. They'd argued plenty of how dragons had no place in the Vale, how they ran the risk of growing petrified and never hatching, but Dragonstone ran the risk of falling during the war, and the Targaryens couldn't risk losing their biggest advantage. There were four eggs in total, each a different color and equally fragile, and they'd be left to be tended to by Rhaena.

Rhaena let out a soft gasp at the sight of them, her mouth parted in surprise and realization as she approached with Baela and Jace. Her widened eyes shot away to meet Rhaenyra's when she placed a hand on her shoulder. "These eggs are even more fragile. But should all come to ruin here.." Rhaenyra swallowed and took in a small, shaky breath. "You will bear our hope for the future."

"Your Grace..." Rhaena exhaled, but before she could speak or even properly process anything, a little voice interrupted.

"Mommy," Joffery whined sleepily from below, his arms too short to fully wrap around his mother's legs whilst he buried his face into the crimson fabric of her dress. His pouty lips tugged at (Y/N)'s heartstrings.

Rhaenyra steeled herself with a deep breath and leaned down to kiss the top of his head, her fingers brushing over his brown strands. (Y/N) bent down on one knee and took his little hand into his own, his teeth dipping into his bottom lip to keep his emotions at bay. It hardly helped that Joffery looked more and more like Luke with each passing day, from the roundness of his chubby cheeks to his big, curious eyes, and his growing sense of adventure. (Y/N) squeezed his hand.

"Be good to Rhaena, Joff." He instructed him softly, waiting for him to nod before he leaned forward to peck his forehead.

Rising to his feet, it was time to say his farewells to his youngest boys. They were far too young to fully comprehend everything going on around them, too young even to begin to understand the severity of their situation. Viserys blinked at him curiously, always so observant and alert of his surroundings. He was clever and picked up on things more quickly than most children his age, but he was frail and easily bruised when he tripped or bumped into objects. Viserys reminded him of himself, and he prayed the young boy made it into manhood to show the Realm his intelligence.

Then, there was Aegon, just a little older than his brother. His dark purple eyes tracked him intently, the corners of his small lips curling upward when he neared. (Y/N) loved all his sons equally, no matter how fussy and defiant they could be at times, but he'd always felt a stronger connection to Aegon.

Perhaps it was because he'd been the first son he could publicly treat as his own without sideway glances. Delicately, (Y/N) brushed his fingers over Aegon's chubby cheek and watched him lean into his touch. He'd be counting down the days until he could reunite with his little ones.

Reluctantly, (Y/N) stepped back to allow the maids to carry the toddlers to the ships, his chest stuttering with a breath as they walked away with Joffery trailing behind. Rhaenyra's hand found his, squeezing tightly with all the emotions she refused to show before their servants. Unspoken words hung in the air, even between the twins. There was a chance they'd never see each other again, be it due to falling in battle or being captured and killed.

"It is.. for their own good," Rhaenyra whispered shakily. "They will be safer in the Vale than they were here. Erryk's attack proved that well enough."

"It does not make it any easier," (Y/N) murmured in response. Is this what his mother had gone through when she'd been forced to choose between following her husband to Kingslanding or remaining in Oldtown with the rest of their family? She'd left behind sons of various ages, but they'd all been her babies at the end of the day. "I hope this war does not drag on for longer than a year."

Rhaenyra's mouth pressed into a line, uncertain. "Let us pray this ends by next spring, then."

His family was notoriously stubborn, but even his father would sooner than later choose a path to end the war as swiftly as possible. War was costly and far too expensive to keep going for longer than a year. But it'd only just begun. The Battle of the Burning Mill was the first spark, one that'd lead to a dozen more until the whole of the Realm was set ablaze.

With dragons dancing and kin slaughtering kin, would Westeros survive, or would it fall as it had hundreds of years ago when the Black Dread and his rider first began conquering the lands?

(Y/N) and Rhaenyra stood at the doors of Dragonstone in somber silence, watching the ship depart from the dock with their sons onboard. Baela dismissed herself to patrol with Moondancer, a simple job she'd been given under the firm instructions that she only report back sightings and never engage. Whilst he'd done little to show it publicly, Laena's death had shaken Daemon enough. He hardly needed to lose both a brother and a daughter in a single year. Who knew what madness that type of grief would consume a man like Daemon.

Once the ship became a mere blip on the horizon, (Y/N) and Rhaenyra walked through the halls of Dragonstone until they reached the shared bedroom of their youngest sons. Their toys remained scattered across the stone floor, with only the favored ones missing as they'd been packed so they could play with them on the ship and in the Vale. Rhaenyra kneeled down on the floor, her trembling hands picking up and cradling one of the wooden toys. She sniffled quietly and finally allowed the tears that'd welled up in her eyes to fall, salty droplets tumbling down her cheeks.

The room felt so oddly... silent. It was deafening. Their boys weren't loud and chaotic, but he'd grown used to hearing their soft babbling or cooing. He was supposed to be watching them begin to learn how to form words, watching them learn how to walk without stumbling. They weren't supposed to be on a ship on their way to lands they weren't familiar with, to be watched by a woman whose care and protection were conditional. (Y/N) inhaled deeply. It was all so damn avoidable.

His fingertips brushed over his forehead to soothe away the incoming throb of a headache, and he stepped away, leaving Rhaenyra to process her grief on her own time. His legs led him through the long hallways, briefly stopping to allow the doors to his bedchambers to open before he stepped inside. His eyes automatically locked on the desk along the wall, and his fingers curled into uncertain fists.

Ever since the death of King Viserys and the following death of his son, his sister relentlessly wrote him letters. His father had as well, once, but those quickly ceased once he realized it was futile. He refused to open any of them after Luke's death, partly due to his time being swallowed up by weeping or allowing grief to leave him with gaps in his memory. His nostrils flared with an exhale, and he approached the desk.

My dearest brother,

There are no words to express the heavy sorrow I feel in my heart for your loss. I regret that I cannot be there for you whilst you grieve the passing of Prince Lucerys, but know that I pray to the Mother each night and morrow so she may ease your suffering. We were one once in the womb of our mother. Your pain is my pain, just as your grief is my grief. A deep despair grows in my chest each day we spend so painfully apart without speaking. Please know it was never mine nor Father's intention to bring such pain upon you and Princess Rhaenyra. I implore you to speak with Rhaenyra and accept the terms of peace our father sent. Let us prevent further bloodshed and sorrow. Let us reunite once more, on happier terms. I meant every word I uttered the last night we saw one another.

Your loving sister, Alicent Hightower

My dearest brother,

I despair each day I receive no word from you or Rhaenyra. No amount of apologies will undo what cannot be undone once the Stranger comes for one, but know you have my deepest condolences. You are one half of me, and Rhaenyra was once my closest friend. These years were not kind to our relationship, but know I will always care for the both of you. War is brewing. I beg of you to order your allies to step down and bend the knee to Aegon before this transforms into something that cannot be undone either. Lives will be lost. Neither of us wants that on our conscience, and I'm certain neither does Rhaenyra.

Your loving sister, Alicent Hightower

My dearest brother,

I find myself thinking of our mother more often. This is not what she would have wanted for us, (Y/N). We were always meant to be one. We were always meant to stay on the same side of every conflict that came our way. I could have been a better sister. I could have been a better mother. I pray to the Mother Above every night to keep our children safe. I beg the Stranger to give us more time. I do not know what will come of me if I lose you in this needless war. There are days I wish we could return to simpler days when all we worried about was the weather and who to favor at tourneys. Gwayne will have to ride out to battle in the name of Oldtown if this does not end soon, (Y/N). Be angry at me, if you must, but do not turn your back on the rest of our siblings. Our family is distraught and sick with worry. Hightowers never leave each other behind.

Your loving sister, Alicent Hightower

(Y/N) rolled his quivering lips into his mouth and slumped down on the chair, his fingers releasing the strip of paper to fall among the rest of the letters he couldn't bring himself to read. Gwayne. The rest of his brothers who'd chosen knighthood for themselves. It was inevitable that one or more of his beloved siblings would die in battle, either struck by a sword or reduced to mere ashes by a dragon.

His eyes fluttered shut, memories of his younger days playing out in his head. What would have come of him, he wondered, if he'd complied and married someone? Rhaenyra would've been a distant memory, and their sons would've been someone else's.

For the first time in many years, (Y/N) felt compelled to ask the Father Above for guidance.

The doors rattled open hurriedly, and (Y/N) wiped his fingers over his cheeks roughly to erase the tear streaks. "My Lord," The guard called out to him, and he angled his head to nod for him to continue. "The Lady Baela has returned from her patrol with crucial news about some knights she spotted."

(Y/N)'s heart skipped a beat, and then lurched into his throat, his eyes flickering over to the letter unfurled on his desk. Gwayne will have to ride out to battle in the name of Oldtown. His eyes squeezed shut, and he rose onto unsteady feet, one hand pressing against the desk until he regained his balance. Seven fucking hells. When would the torment end?

Clearing his throat, he adjusted his coat. "Alert Her Majesty and the Small Council."

It took less than ten minutes for everyone to gather in the Chamber of the Painted Table and turn to pay their whole undivided attention to Baela. She appeared nervous under their expectant gazes, but with an encouraging nod from Rhaenyra, she took a deep breath. "I was patrolling with Moondancer as ordered when I noticed armor glinting from below. Ser Criston Cole with some half-dozen other knights, I'm sure of it. Perhaps a scout party for a greater army."

(Y/N)'s insides twisted and churned uncomfortably. It was all becoming too real too fast.

"The ravens confirm it, Your Grace." Maester Gerardys piped in from beside (Y/N), his body leaning over the Painted Table to move one of the pieces. "Lord Farring has reported a larger force moving northeast towards Rosby."

"Could you be certain it was Cole from such a great height?" Rhaenyra questioned Baela gently, her arms tightly wound around herself as a means of comfort.

"It was not such a great height," Baela revealed quickly, sparing the couple a glance when their eyes snapped toward her. She pursed her lips. "You said not to engage, so I didn't... exactly." She was her father's and mother's daughter, at the end of the day. (Y/N) couldn't help the trickle of amusement despite Rhaenyra's disapproving frown.

"Your Grace, My Lord, we commend the Lady Baela for her sharp eyes, but we can tarry no longer." Lord Celtigar spoke, his voice naturally shaky from age, but it trembled more with urgency. "The time for action is surely now."

"Your Grace, My Lord, I must agree and request your permission to return to Rook's Rest and fortify my lands." Lord Staunton added hurriedly, his features pulling into a tight, worried grimace that felt tremendously understandable.

From across the table, Lord Massey clicked his tongue. "You shouldn't fret, Lord Simon. They'll be making for Harrenhal."

"'Tis Prince Daemon who ought to worry." Ser Alfred agreed.

At the mention of Daemon, Lord Celtigar turned his attention back onto the two. "Cole will look to increase his numbers, and he may call upon a dragon of his own to even out the field with Prince Daemon and Caraxes."

"This is why you must act now, Your Grace, My Lord." Ser Alfred implored gruffly, stepping past Maester Gerardys to stand beside them with knitted brows. "Loose the dragons. Root Cole out and burn him."

(Y/N)'s gaze traveled over the Painted Table, flickering between names and houses until he spotted Oldtown with the wooden piece of a tower meant to represent Hightower. There was little to no chance his brother (or brothers) wasn't amongst the knights traveling with Cole to Rosby. Gwayne, with his floppy light auburn waves and his cheeky little grin.

The only dragon his brother was sure to know was their youngest nephew's dragon, Tessarion, but he'd watch her grow. She'd likely never snapped or growled or even vaguely threatened him. And now, he'd fled from Moondancer and was sure to be burned down to the bones by a dragon who only saw him as the enemy.

He could feel their stares burning into them, into him. If Rhaenyra chose not to comply with their wishes, they'd flock to usher their pleas and opinions into his ears in hopes of getting him to convince her. He was certain plenty of them wished the crown rested upon his brow instead of hers, and there were certainly plenty of men who wished it was Rhaenys and Corlys they took their orders from instead. But, despite their aggravating flaws and big mouths, they'd chosen to keep their word to King Viserys instead of fleeing to the Hightowers.

Rhaenyra inhaled sharply. "We have heard your arguments. And will consider them." With that, she ran her hand over (Y/N)'s arm and spun on her heel to leave, her departure swift and anxious.

The heavy disappointment in the air was notable, and (Y/N) sighed. "Lord Simon, you may leave to warn home of the approaching army. Do what you must to protect yourself and your family. If it comes to battle, you will do us great honor defending our cause against Cole and his army. We wish you safe travels."

With a grateful, quick nod, Lord Staunton bowed his head in farewell and excused himself from the table, his strides long to save time without full-blown running. With an army encroaching on his lands, Lord Staunton's choices were limited. He'd likely be offered one last chance to bend the knee to Aegon and be named a turncloak, or he'd stand firm at the risk of dying for their cause. Death on the battlefield was a fate they'd all have to quickly accept lest they wished to be branded as cowards.

"And while your passion is appreciated, Ser Alred," (Y/N) continued, withholding the urge to sigh like an exasperated parent lecturing their child for the tenth time. "We cannot be sending out our dragons for every problem we come across. They're our only means of protection. If they grow injured or die early on, we'll be left with nothing to protect us from the likes of Vhagar and Sunfyre. Our dragons should only fly out to battle against other dragons."

"Very well, My Lord." Ser Alfred dipped his head.

His thumb twitched toward the silver ring adorning his finger, pressing into it and rubbing it as he searched for the right words to say before the council. He preferred it when they discussed amongst themselves because in moments like these, he realized how out of their depth he and Rhaenyra were. Nothing good ever came from a reign that began with war.

"Maester Gerardys, keep in frequent contact with Lord Farring and Lord Simon Staunton once he returns home so that we may remain updated on the army's movement. If the army does indeed descend upon Rook's Rest, Lord Simon may require supplies and men." (Y/N) instructed the Maester, who nodded firmly. He inhaled, coasting his eyes over the council gathered before they settled on the young curly-haired girl beside him. "You did well today, Baela."

"Thank you, My Lord." She smiled and exchanged a prideful glance with Jace, the corners of her eyes crinkled with barely contained glee.

With a small nod, (Y/N) dismissed himself from the meeting and turned on his heels to depart from the room. His thumb pressed harder into his ring, twisting and turning it around his knuckle until it slipped and nearly fell onto the floor. He pushed it back down to his knuckle with a soft exhale, listening to the sound of his shoes smacking against the stone floor. The halls felt eerily silent, as if everyone knew of the impending destruction Cole's army was surely to bring. He couldn't help but nip at his lip again in thought.

When he stepped inside their shared bedchambers, he found Rhaenyra standing before the fireplace with a faraway gaze in her eyes. She stared at the flickering flames with a blank expression, save for the slight furrow in her brows. The sound of the doors rattling shut startled her out of her thoughts, and she turned toward him with a weary smile, her arms extending out toward him for an embrace.

"Rhaenyra," He muttered softly, arms automatically circling her waist. She hummed. "I'm afraid Ser Alfred, however ambitious he may be, has a point. If the army faces resistance, they'll send a dragon, likely Vhagar. We cannot sit idly by anymore while they continue moving forward."

She shook her head, the strands framing her face bouncing off her cheeks with the movement. "I do not want violence to be my legacy, (Y/N)-"

"Rhaenyra, we've run out of time. It would've been one thing if more than half of the lords had kept their oaths, but Westeros is split. Few are the families that have chosen to remain neutral. Lady Tyrell will never put her little son at risk, and the Red Kraken thrives on chaos. I'm afraid we're out of options, Nyra. Peace will..." (Y/N) trailed off with a strangled breath. He could see Gwayne's vibrant eyes as clear as the blue sky on a sunny evening, staring at him in his memories. How many of his family would be left in the end? His eyes flickered away. "Peace will only be achievable after the war."

Rhaenyra shook her head again, her eyes squeezing shut in chipping denial as she peeled herself from him. "I cannot become what they've made me out to be. They call me cruel, (Y/N). They believe me capable of bringing harm to an innocent child and his mother! I do not want to be Rhaenyra the Cruel. I-" She inhaled sharply and brought her hands to her face, a shaky breath trembling past her lips. "I want to be a good queen. I want to make my father proud."

"I know you do... but the time for waiting is over, sweetheart. There is nothing we can do but meet these usurpers head-on. Mayhaps if we do, it will all blow over quickly. Rhaenyra, I do not mean to offend, but your family's legacy was built on bloodshed and destruction. Aegon the Conqueror did not become the ruler of Westeros by waiting for it to be handed over to him. He took it by force and fire. You do not need to force your subjects. You just need to force your enemies."

Her arms fell limply to her sides, her features constricted in faint frustration and vague apprehension. Her gaze returned to the dancing flames licking up the stone walls of the fireplaces. "You sound like a Hightower." She whispered, faint enough he nearly missed it.

(Y/N) could only grimace. "I am a Hightower. That is your advantage, though. I know how my father and sister work, how they think and act. Though I suspect their advice to Aegon goes in one ear and out the other. But that is... good. He is young and reckless, and eager to prove. He will make a mistake sooner or later that we can exploit."

Rhaenyra's hand raised to massage her shoulder, a dejected frown on her face. "And now you sound like Otto."

Rhaenyra hadn't slept much, he knew that well. He'd felt her tossing and turning all night, occasionally curling up against him, only to turn after a couple of minutes. Sleep was fleeting in recent times, with strategies and worries running circles in their minds despite their exhausted bodies. More than three hours of sleep was a rarity, but he was certain Rhaenyra hadn't gotten a wink of sleep since their last conversation on the army.

And now, she'd chosen to remain behind to mull over decisions instead of attending their latest council meeting.

The disappointment and exasperation in the shoulders of their council was palpable. He could feel it in their heavy stares as they watched him and exchanged irritated glances at the lack of their ruler's presence. He couldn't blame them. If he were amongst them, just a mere ally to Rhaenyra, he would've begun having second thoughts ages ago. Rhaenyra was clumsy with her ruling thus far, but given the circumstances, nobody could truly blame her.

Baela cleared her throat, her hands delicately interlaced before her as she tilted her head toward him and waited for his nod to go on. "Ser Criston Cole's host has taken to exploiting the tree cover to conceal its movements. He now only travels by night to confound our dragons." She explained, her voice surprisingly steady for a young woman with so much riding on her patrols and sightings.

"And what is Cole's heading?" Lord Celtigar questioned, voice devoid of any emotion aside from boredom.

"It is difficult to say, but there were signs of an army moving northwest... I believe."

There was a mocking chuckle and muttered words from Lord Massey, a quiet sigh from Lord Celtigar, and quite a few exchanged glances. Baela pursed her lips, her cheeks puffing out slightly in annoyance and a hint of embarrassment, before she moved around the table to stand beside Jace. There was a bit of back and forth, nothing (Y/N) paid much mind to as he studied the carved map on the table. Jace's defense of Baela brought him back, and he straightened his shoulders.

"Be mindful of how you treat our Lady Baela. She will one day be Queen Consort." Baela and Jace's mouths twisted upward into sheepish, flustered little smiles that they swiftly smoothed over to look more proper. (Y/N) snorted softly and smoothed his finger over his brow. "The army continues growing, and anyone it comes across either bends the knee or meets a gruesome fate. Their destination is certainly Harrenhal, or someplace in the Riverlands. What do we know of Daemon?"

Maester Gerardys winced, and (Y/N) withheld the urge to sigh. "Letters were sent to Harrenhal seeking news of Daemon's progress with the Riverlands, My Lord. None have, as yet, returned."

"My Lord," Ser Alfred rose from his seat with a certain determination (Y/N) had seen plenty of times from him before. "We must act now. You are our King Consort, My Lord. You are a ruler as much as Her Grace is, so use your voice to command us; otherwise, this council is rudderless. We do naught while the Greens do as they please throughout the Crownlands."

"You should mind your tone when you speak to your ruler, Ser." A new voice, one (Y/N) hadn't heard in near weeks, boomed throughout the room from the doorway.

Lord Corlys strolled into the room with a faint limp, his cane hitting the floor in rhythmic tap tap taps, and narrowed eyes zeroing in on Ser Alfred, who notably went rigid under the steely gaze of the Sea Snake. Lord Corlys scoffed loudly, purposefully to make his disappointment known to each of the men. He watched Ser Alfred until the knight took his seat once more, only then raising his gaze to eye each of the men. He stopped to stand beside his wife, though Rhaenys hardly batted an eye at his presence.

"My apologies, My Lord." Ser Alfred bowed his head. "I should not have raised my voice."

"No, you shouldn't have. I grow weary of having to reprimand you time and time again, Ser." (Y/N)'s palms pressed against the table when he pushed himself up to stand. "Speak out of line again, and I will have you removed and sent elsewhere. Let that be a warning to everyone else in this room. Am I understood?"

(Y/N) caught the corners of Lord Corlys's lips faintly turning upward at his words, and a certain relief settled on (Y/N)'s shoulders with the chorus of 'Yes, My Lord' that followed. It wasn't easy wrangling men old enough to be his father or even grandfather, but he noticed with enough threats and jabs, they eventually fell in line like obedient dogs.

"I know many of you grow restless and concerned, but trust that my wife, Her Grace, desires the same thing as each of you. Some of you may not agree, but it is not weak or cowardly to wish to refrain from harming innocents who will certainly get caught in the crossfire of this war. Women, children, elders.. not to mention how costly it will be to rebuild what is destroyed. We've all seen the damage Harrenhal suffered from King Aegon and Balerion's attack. It's a castle still being repaired to this day, many generations later. You are thinking of the present, Her Grace and I have to think of the future, for our children's sake and yours."

(Y/N) took a deep breath, his fingernail picking at a small ridge on the table. "Having said that... I do believe that is... about time we send out a dragon." He admitted, and watched as the men of the council immediately perked up at the revelation, their bodies straightening and shoulders squaring. It even captured the attention of Jace and Baela, whose chins rose and chests stuttered with sharply inhaled air. "Unfortunately, it isn't a matter of when, but of who. We may have more dragons, but many of them are riderless. Daemon took Caraxes with him, thus leaving us with three dragons capable of flying into battle."

Not many of the men caught the unspoken words, but Rhaenys did. (Y/N) could tell from the quiet hum that vibrated in her throat, thoughtful and agreeable. Jace and Baela were simply too young to be allowed off into battle, no matter how many times they argued about being grown. They were old enough to marry, old enough to begin having children if they so wished, but whenever (Y/N) looked at Jace, he only saw the little boy with round cheeks and floppy hair he'd raised. Losing another child would break the rest of the pieces of his heart that managed to remain after Luke's death.

Solemnly, Maester Gerardys was the first to speak. "Who will fly out then, My Lord?"

Before anyone could pipe in or potentially offer themselves, Rhaenyra appeared in the doorway clad in that familiar shade of red she so often wore. Silence settled over the room again, this time more forced, like a group of children with a secret they wished to keep. She strode into the room, swift and graceful, it would've looked as if she were floating if it weren't for her shoes appearing and disappearing beneath her skirts with each step.

She greeted Lord Corlys with a nod and came to stand between Baela and Jace, gazing over the map before she raised her head to address the room. "Admittedly, I have been dragging my feet these past few days. I inherited eighty years of peace from my father. I needed to be certain and clear about my choices before I was to end that peace, and I have found that there is no other path to take. My lord husband helped me see that. Only one choice remains to me: either I win my claim or die trying."

While many of the men in the room likely felt relief as they erupted into chatter and plans, (Y/N) only felt dread. It was hard to look at the positives when there were none, not with the hand they'd been dealt the moment the crown came to rest on Aegon's head. People were going to die, people were dying, and there was nothing they could do other than add to the count of lives lost until one side was no more. He'd never wanted to bloody his hands. He wasn't like his knightly brothers who enjoyed a good tussle and the rush of victory. He wasn't Daemon, who loved the taste of blood and power. He supposed he had to get used to it now.

"Cole's shift from marching to Harrenhal and then choosing to march on Rook's Rest is worrisome," (Y/N) spoke up amongst the ocean of voices, effectively silencing them. "He likely received word of Daemon's presence there, and he'd be a fool to march towards a fiery death. As Ser Alfred claims, he may attack Rook's Rest because of Lord Staunton's support.. and perhaps until word reaches King's Landing of his need for a rider to help defeat Daemon. We all know Daemon. He'll be inclined to attack if the army gets anywhere near the riverlands. Cole cannot risk that without backup. Someone must fly out to Rook's Rest and weaken the army before they resume their journey."

Rhaenyra nodded, her previously tight features softening. "There are those who have mistaken my caution for weakness. Let that be their undoing." Her back went erect, and she raised her head with a firmer nod. "I will go-"

"My Queen," Lord Corlys immediately protested.

"Rhaenyra," (Y/N) clicked his tongue, and Jace's shoulders slumped with a long, heavy sigh. "You cannot go to Rook's Rest-"

"I will not lose dragons to a war whilst I hide here in my castle, (Y/N)."

"Our allies raise their banners for you, Mother. If you die, all is lost." Jace spoke up, his hands coming to rest on the hilt of his sword. "Send me."

The unanimous answer from (Y/N) and Rhaenyra came sharply: "No."

Jace's jaw clenched. "I will burn Cole's lines and withdraw before King's Landing can even raise the alarm-"

"You are barely man-grown, Jace, you and Vermax lack the experience to ride out into battle alone."

Whatever words Jace wished to respond with clearly weren't meant for the ears of mere strangers, because he let them die in his mouth and puffed out his cheeks irritably instead, his hands clenching and unclenching as the anger rolled over his body. (Y/N) could see himself in his eyes, could see the boy who defied his father at every turn, and felt eternally grateful that Jace was more obedient than he had been at his age. (Y/N) wasn't sure what he'd do if Jace had taken completely after him in more than just looks.

Instead, Rhaenys stepped forward, her mouth tugged into a joyless smile. "You must send me, Your Grace, My Lord. Meleys is your largest dragon and no stranger to battle. I will meet Cole."

While nobody verbally protested, the air was heavy. Rhaenys had been the anchor for a straying ship in the days after Luke's death, her voice mighty during meetings and presence grounding for the two young rulers she'd watched grow up. There was a distance there, one that remained ever since the day she lost her children, but she remained despite her grief.

She advised without being asked to, defended when no one else did, and flew out day in and day out for them. Neither (Y/N) nor Rhaenyra could utter a single word against it. It was either Rhaenys or the children, and neither the Targaryens nor Velaryons wished to see their little ones harmed.

Taking their grim silence as an answer, Rhaenys took a deep breath, glanced at the man she married at sixteen, and departed from the room to prepare. They all knew what flying into battle meant. The chances of her returning were as high as the chances of her dying brutally in the field, and the realization seemed to dawn on Lord Corlys because he quickly strode after his wife. Baela hesitated, her widened eyes flickering between (Y/N) and Rhaenyra until she received a nod to follow.

"Princess Rhaenys honors us with her offer." (Y/N) began softly, watching Baela hurry after her grandparents. It tugged at his heartstrings. "We must stay vigilant, updated, and prepared for anything, regardless of the outcome at Rook's Rest."

Within the hour, (Y/N) couldn't help but make his way to the bedchambers Rhaenys had taken as her own during her frequent stays in Dragonstone. She stood before the window, fiddling with her riding gloves and watching the waves crash into the cliff below in silence. She glanced at him, the corner of her lips quirking upward.

"Has the Boy Who Never Smiles come to say his farewells?"

(Y/N) chuckled, fingertips dragging over the top of the nearby table when he walked past it. He stopped at the end and leaned his hip against it, his eyes tracking the lines along the floor. "Rhaenyra and I have never made your life easy, Rhaenys. We've been a pain, more than not, but you've become a figure akin to the mothers we lost in our youths." His words made her grow still, thoughtful. "It is why I.. I cannot allow you to go into battle without speaking to you first."

"What about, child?" Rhaenys questioned softly, wiggling her fingers into her riding glove before approaching him curiously, her head tilting to the side.

"Rhaenys..." (Y/N) swallowed and raised his head to finally peer into her eyes. "That morrow in Driftmark, the day after Laena's funeral... it was not Laenor who was murdered. A plan was conjured, one he was involved in, to fake his death so that he and Rhaenyra would be free of their marriage. It was a servant whose body was burnt. Laenor fled Driftmark under the cover of the morning fog with the man he loved. Seasmoke's recent behavior leads me to believe he may have passed, but I like to believe he lived a happier life, free of responsibilities and judgment, with Ser Qarl."

Rhaenys remained silent, her brows tightly knitted together and her eyes wide with glittering tears. (Y/N) reached out, brushing his fingers over her elbow. "I hope that in telling you this, it gives you some peace of mind about Laenor. We didn't kill him, Rhaenys. He didn't die that day, and everything you've done for us hasn't been a betrayal of your children."

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hollowsart · 2 days ago

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Clark Kent: Superman!

Cuz I watched the Superman movie yesterday, I felt inclined to revisit my old concept and make something a little more solid and refined for him!

I hope you guys like him!!

here's some stuff about him, both what's in the images, and a little extra info n junk:

====

He often wears handmade patchwork sweaters and vests that his ma made for him to work. He wears them proudly.

He really is just a really good man. The sweetest and kindest and most gentle of souls. And he owes so much to his parents. The ones who raised him.

While his birth name is Kal-El and he is an alien from a distant long-gone planet called Krypton, he is still so very human and wishes to live as normal a human life as he has grown up knowing. Him being "human" is what makes him so special and "super". His only desire is to help people. His only wish is for everyone to be safe. He cares so deeply and so much for his home, his planet-- Earth. And those that reside on it.

---

While Clark may appear 100% human from a quick general glance.. He does have a few subtle quirks and at least 1 physical feature that reveals his true being. He is an alien. Possessing 2 sets of pecs, though the 2nd set is smaller and less developed than the main set.

He is actually self-conscious about his little differences from others and has been since he was a child. His parents have made sure to make him feel comfortable and remind him that he just as human and normal as everyone else. Telling him stories of family members who had extra fingers, lost limbs, and more to put his poor mind at ease.

No one else knows about his body except for his parents.. and Lois, but she still hasn't told Clark that she knows his secret.

---

Clark Kent is the true face and personality of "Superman". A man who grew up in a small town on a farm with two modest and gentle souls who found and raised him and taught him all he knows. They did everything they could to make sure Clark grew up to be a good man with a good life.

He loves and cherishes them greatly, just as much as they love him, and he would do anything to protect them.

---

He tries to get along with Guy Gardner, but Guy makes that difficult. Guy has a sense of inferiority in comparison to Superman. Feeling weak and incapable of being anywhere near as good as him.

They've had discussions together a few times and talked.. not fighting, not biting, not insulting.. just.. talking. Clark has a strange way of being able to make even Guy feel better.

Although.. Guy is still bitter about Clark being 1 measly inch taller than him. Occasionally, he'll notice Guy using his ring to float ever so slightly higher than him. He lets him have it, finding it amusing.

#my art #phone art #superman #clark kent #kal el #//long post #please I love my superman. he is just a good boy!!!! he is so good!!!!!!

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thelilypit · 3 days ago

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So Lily has announced her intention to make Baldur's Gate 3 is Garbage and Here's Why (or a video to that effect) and has been playing the game on livestream to collect footage for the video. She has also made several posts on BlueSky that foreshadow her opinion on the game.

The video is being made in the wake of criticism from Crispy's Tavern, a youtuber in the DnD community. With Lily's current reach, I doubt it will gain traction. Still, there will doubtlessly be discussion on Lily's takes when the video does come out.

Let's make this clear before then; None of Lily's criticisms of Baldur's Gate 3 hold merit, because Lily refuses to engage with the game's systems in good faith.

Let me provide you with an example of Lily's approach to playing Baldur's Gate 3. It's not a recent one (it comes from a livestream aired in September 2023) but it is highly indicative of Lily's play style as a whole.

This is a pile of rubble in Grymforge, one of the latter sections of Act I. Destroying it grants access to the passage beyond. The player has the option of convincing some overworked herd animals to clear it away for them, or they can destroy it themselves with the appropriate weaponry. Since Lily has already slaughtered everything in this area, she opts for the latter.

The rubble has 45 hit points, resistance to piercing damage and most forms of elemental damage, and immunity to slashing damage. It also has the "sturdy" condition, meaning it will ignore any attack that deals fewer than 10 hit points to it. All of this information is freely given if you right-click on the rubble pile to examine it, and if you attack it with an ineffective weapon, it will even tell you if that weapon is ineffective.

Here is Lily's failed attempt at clearing the rubble.

video summary/description: Lily's OC attacks the rubble with scimitars, a slashing weapon. The pile takes no damage, and the text "immune to slashing damage" pops up. Lae'zel then attacks the rubble with a one-handed Warhammer - this attack could potentially damage the rubble if she rolls high enough for damage, but she doesn't.

Lily's henchman casts Magic Missile at 3rd level on the rubble - this sends out 5 missile that each deal between 2 and 5 force damage- since these missiles are counted separately, none of them damage the pile. Lily's OC then attacks the pile several times with a bow- no damage. Karlach follows suit with a crossbow - no damage. Karlach then attacks the rubble with a halberd* - a slashing weapon, so the pile is immune (and the "immune to slashing damage" text is displayed again). After 3 more halberd swings at the pile, Lily gives up and moves on from the undamaged rubble.

This is not a difficult section of the game by any means - this rubble can easily be cleared by an explosive barrel, or judicious usage of a Warlock's eldritch blast. Even without leaving this area or changing her party, Lily could have cleared the rubble by switching Lae'zel's Warhammer to two-handed mode and giving the pile enough hits.

Had Lily engaged with this obstacle with patience and a little curiosity, she would have recognized her current weapons were ineffective (with the exception of the aforementioned Warhammer) and been able to formulate an alternative strategy. Instead she frustrates herself with attacks that do nothing, ignores the game telling her those attacks do nothing, and leaves while complaining that D&D's rules are "ass-backwards." Baldur's Gate 3 is not a perfect game, and it certainly has issues - but withholding information from its players is not one of them.

This is how Lily approaches the entirety of Baldur's Gate 3. She is already determined to dislike the game, and as a result she refuses to engage with any of the game's systems in good faith. Because she doesn't engage with the systems in good faith, she doesn't know how to overcome simple challenges. Because Lily can't overcome simple challenges, she has a bad time, and because she has a bad time, she dislikes the game. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy, and Lily seems determined to make it everyone else's problem.

Why should we respect the opinions of someone who plays the game like this?

*Important note here - Karlach stunning herself has nothing to do with the rubble pile - the weapon she's wielding, Light of Creation, was looted from an automaton and will stun any non-automaton that wields it. Again, if Lily had taken the time to engage with the game and read the item's description, she'd realize that this weapon is… not an ideal choice for most characters.

#lily orchard #cd-call #baldur's gate 3

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nekropsii · 22 hours ago

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I’ve seen Horuss headcanoned to be Transfem quite a bit, I’m curious to hear if you have any thoughts on the interpretation, especially after having read the Transfem equius posts.

I had a brief discussion with @starlit1daydream about this topic recently, and we agreed that while the reading is there and theoretically easy to make... It's a bit less substantive than a Transfeminine Equius reading, and also a little bit more difficult to state as fact due to Horuss's... Horussness.

You would necessarily have to contend with, on the Watsonian side of things, Horuss's incredibly strained relationship with Identity, and, on the Doylist side of things, Hussie's at the time incredibly fucked "understanding" of Plurality. Horuss has an interesting character feature wherein he's seemingly incapable of finding literally any fulfillment in himself and his identity, specifically mentioning how no matter how much he tries and no matter what he tries, he just can't fill this unplaceable gaping empty void in his soul. It's part of why he's still clinging to Rufioh, despite the fact that it's obvious neither of them legitimately want to be in each other's company. He also has a very frustrating character feature where, whenever he verged on being actually really interesting, Hussie shot herself directly in the foot by turning Systems into punchlines that were somehow completely interchangeable with... Otherkins and Therians? It's weird.

All this said, Starlit's planning on writing up a big post breaking down Horuss's character along the same lines as her really good Equius Essay that you should absolutely read, especially if you enjoy my various Equius postings.

#homestuck #homestuck meta #homestuck analysis #horuss zahhak #equius zahhak #transfem headcanon #horuss.pdf #nekro.pdf #nekro.sms

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stberggren · 19 hours ago

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something about emil’s expression tells him all he needs to know about how he looks. and going off how his body feels is no more promising. when emil comes closer and remains quite blurry tom blinks a couple of times to focus on him. when that does not work he realises that he is no longer wearing his glasses. he sighs, but relaxes once he feels emil’s fingers touch his forehead. he closes his eyes and simply listens to him promising that he’s okay. tom finds it difficult to believe it that it was truly worth the trouble for him, but he is too worn out, too tired, to tell him so.

he unintentionally shudders when he touches his neck and it prompts him to open his eyes, looking at emil as he tells him he’s sorry. please, don’t say that. he places his own hand above his and he holds them there. “there is nothing to be sorry for, i can’t even remember it.” tom understands him, he would not want to hurt him either, at least not consciously, whether he asked him to or not. don't be sorry.

tom awkwardly tries to sit while holding emil’s hand against him. a small smile tugs in the corners of his mouth when his features become palpable again. he isn’t sure if he means anything by his words, but their suggestiveness is somewhat of a relief from the heaviness of it all. he rolls his eyes and shakes his head, “don’t tell me you are already planning a next time.” of course you are. it may be the exhaustion, or perhaps it is something else, but tom doesn’t have it in him to say that he can’t let him hurt himself like this again.

tom indecisively fiddles with the fingers by his neck before letting them go. he leans back down on his elbows and exhaustedly hangs his head back and thinks out loud: “let’s not discuss it now.. i haven’t even had the chance to look at your wrist yet.. i can’t even properly make out where we are.. is there anyone here who can give you their blood so that you recover faster…”

it wasn't easy. tom certainly ripped a good chunk out of his arm. he won himself a few scratches and bruises in other places which he would rather hide from the other vampire to minimize his guilt. he got him home and they're both relatively in one piece. that's all that matters to emil. the truth is he has had far worse. his body is littered with the evidence of his mortal days and the violence they carried. at least this has purpose. there is no fear or regret in his demeanor—except for when he looks at the signs of bruising around tom's throat. he's wrapping up his half-healed arm, eyes focused on the purplish coloration on the other's skin. an unavoidable side affect of knocking him out.

a tender smile immediately finds his lips, a soft curve when tom wakes and appears to be himself again. ❝ i'm okay, ❞ he assures him. emil sets the bloodied rag aside and sits on the edge of the bed beside tom. it's his own bed. in his quarters. a coffin would be wiser but he has yet to bring himself to be comfortable climbing inside one of those things. ❝ it was worth it, ❞ he promises, gently brushing sweat-soaked strands away from tom's forehead. ❝ you got the blood you needed. no one got hurt...not much. maybe next time we oughta do it here. could tie you down or somethin'. ❞ his brows furrow and he reaches to gingerly touch some of the bruising at tom's throat. ❝ then i won't have to do this to you. i'm sorry. should've thought of that before. ❞

#KLARSYNT.#emil made him spiral because of course he wants him to tie him down aRE YOU KIDDING #2: YOU WANT BLOOD & I PROMISED.

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carlyraejepsans · 1 year ago

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for real WHERE does the idea that [utdr humans] are nongendered so that "you can project on them" come from. their literal character arcs are about NOT being a blank slate to be filled in by the audience

i think i understand the assumption on some level for undertale, because there is a very intentional effort to make you identify with the "player character" in order to make your choices feel like your own (the beating heart of undertale's metanarrative lies in giving you an alternative path to violence against its enemies after all, and whether you're still willing to persue it for your own selfish reasons. YOUR agency is crucial).

of course, the cardinal plot twist of the main ending sweeps the rug from under your feet on that in every way, and frisk's individuality becomes, in turn, a tool to further UT's OTHER main theme: completionism as a form of diegetic violence within the story. replaying the game would steal frisk's life and happy ending from them for our own perverse sentimentality, emotionally forcing our hand away from the reset button.

i think their neutrality absolutely aids in that immersion. but also, there's this weird attitude by (mostly) cis fans where it being functional within the story makes it... somehow "editable" and "up to the player" as well? which is gross and shows their ass on how they approach gender neutrality in general lol.

but also like. there's plenty of neutral, non PCharacters in undertale and deltarune. even when undertale was just an earthbound fangame and the player immersion metanarrative was completely absent, toby still described frisk as a "young, androgynous person". sometimes characters are just neutral by design. it's not that hard to understand lol.

anyone who makes this argument for kris deltarune is braindead. nothing else to say about it.

#this is a very difficult topic to discuss imo because on Some level I don't completely disagree with people who make that argument for chara #in SPIRIT. if not in action. like my point still stands characters can just Be neutral. and if that level of customization had been intended #well Pokemon's been doing the ''are you a boy or a girl'' shtick for ages. no reason why that couldn't have been included as well #but i do feel that we're supposed to identify with chara within the story. not as in chara is us but as in we are chara #and i think someone playing the game without outside interferences and (wrongly) coming to the conclusion that chara IS literally #themselves in the story. and thus call them by their own name (the one they likely inputted at the start) and pronouns #will be someone who grasped undertale's metanarrative more than someone who went in already spoiled on the NM route who thinks of chara #(and on some level frisk as well) as completely separate from us with independent wills and personhoods at any time #who treats them as nonbinary. even if their approach is more ''appropriate'' to a gender neutral person #systematic error vs manually changing every measure to fit what you already think is going to be the correct result. ykwim?#of course this opens a whole new parentheses while discussing the game outside of your personal experience #because even if you DO see chara as a self insert then they are a self insert for EVERYONE. women men genderqueer people #i don't call chara ''biscia'' even though that's what i named the fallen human in my playthrough. neither do i use they because i also do #if you're describing the character/story objectively in how they are executed then you're going to talk about them neutrally #because you ain't the only sunovabitch who played the darn game sonny #so like. either way you turn it. even in the most self insert reading you'd STILL logically use they/them so ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ git gud #answered asks

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governmentofficial · 2 days ago

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"Yes, they are floating the idea of retirement," Mycroft admitted with no hesitation. Why shouldn't he tell the truth? Edgar likely knew it already and, if he didn't, then the reminder would serve him well.

For all his grumbling about Mycroft's career ambitions, the younger man's aims were going to benefit Edgar too. After all, was it not a good way of ensuring his continued employment for the foreseeable future? Mycroft liked him (a rare achievement indeed!) and he saw a use for him - the probability of him supporting a call for retirement any time soon was low.

"I'm providing counter arguments, of course," Mycroft then pointed out, just in case Edgar had, for some reason, failed to consider the opportunity at hand for his own self-preservation. "I think you're a useful asset, and I cannot think of a single man I'd trust more to deal with sensitive issues across the pond."

What Mycroft didn't mention was that the discussions of retirement weren't likely to go anywhere with or without his intervention. Edgar was useful. No matter how difficult he could be to deal with sometimes, his effectiveness as a tool was undeniable. They just didn't make them like him anymore.

Edgar gave a gruff noise as his first response. Mycroft wasn't the worst person to take over the intelligence services of course, if anyone had to do it then better it be the man who Edgar felt he knew well enough to be able to predict... mostly. It still didn't mean he agreed with the plans, but as good an agent as he might have been that 'stagnation' was in place until he had any chance of returning home, which was not likely to change in the near future.

Mycroft was trying to shrug it off as a joke but Edgar was stubborn and his training was making certain thoughts trickle into his head about how easy it would be for Mycroft to position himself in such a way that he would be particularly hard to remove. He would just have to hope that Mycroft would cling to the sensible side and not get reckless, ambitious or worse corporate.

"Things have been slow this side of the Atlantic," he eventually confessed grumpily and reluctantly. "I have some assignments when they come through," which he did not reveal as he knew full well Mycroft by the sounds of it already knew about them, "but they are very tame compared to what I was used to. They're not still floating around the idea of retirement for me I take it?" He'd never retire. He didn't think he could given all he had done.

#multipleoccupancy #queued;

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carelessmirel · 4 months ago

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Okay, my thoughts about Jegulus|Drarry|NottPott|Jeverus similarities & differences.

Let’s start with Drarry & Jeverus similarities. And before you ask: in this case it’s James - Draco and Severus - Harry parallels. They are different people though, so parallels, not copies.

One of them is pureblood, proud and full of himself (Draco, James) and the other is a halfblood, that grew up in abusive household (Severus, Harry). Yes, Potters are rich, unlike Snapes, but did it help Harry specifically? Not really.

They have a very open rivalry/hostility that sometimes escalate into a full on fight. In Drarry’s case it’s rather homoerotic in some moments. I’m not going to list them, bc my understanding of homoerotic is def not the same as yours, but you can probably remember some. We cannot tell if Jeverus had the same dynamics, bc we’re not shown much and also told that they fought over a girl. But they had a hostile relationship.

Also, in Jeverus case we can’t tell if it was one-sided or not. Drarry definitely was a rivalry, not just hostility. But Jeverus? We don’t have enough canon material. Snape did retaliate, surely, but did he start some of the fights? We don’t know. I think it was a rivalry, based on some canon bits, but that's just my thoughts. But was James obsessed with Severus? Probably.

Draco tries to humiliate Harry (“Potter stinks” badges, “Dementors” during quidditch, etc.) And “Snape’s worst memory” exists. I don’t like Snape, that’s true, but damn, I feel bad for him in that moment. It’s mixed, because he also calls Lily a slur in the same scene, but still.

Draco saves Harry’s live (DH, in the Malfoy manor). To Draco it’s also an action against his family. James saves Severus in the Shrieking Shack, when Sirius gets him there while Remus is transformed. It’s an action against Sirius. Please, tell me you understand what I mean, please, I cannot put it into words.

If we go into Cursed child, there’s also some interesting things. Draco outgrew his rivalry with Harry, like James did, became a better person for his wife and son. Harry… Harry didn’t, at least not entirely. Harry, just like Snape, judges a child by his father’s actions (seeing Scorpius as a “dark cloud” near Albus and all that). He’s not as bad as Snape, but he still sees “sins of the father”.

Thank you for coming into my Ted Talk, I guess. I’ll post about Jegulus - NottPott another time, this is already really long…

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rearranging-deck-chairs · 1 year ago

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Hi hello I watched all of carmilla in a weekend when I was 17 because a student teacher who in retrospect I had a bit of a crush on mentioned that she knew one of the actresses. also I am pretty invested in all your recent vampire stuff because I watched iwtv in 2 days last week because your edit intrigued me

oh hiiii 🫶 thank you for indulging me. thats so cool that you watched iwtv! did it live up to the expectation?

i also watched carmilla at 17! or like, 17-19. i found it when s2 had just started and followed it to the end. did something permanent to my brain but i think it was a good thing. on rewatch now im like, i was right to like this. like it's a solid show, it's good. it has its flaws obviously but it's well written, the emotional moments still get me, i can see why i liked it and i still like it now even when it's not anymore, you know, meeting every need that baby gay me didnt even know they had

what it doesnt reaallyy do though - i dont remember if i posted abt this or if i left it in my drafts but - is explore vampirism as a concept. their subject matter is more lesbianism than vampirism. which is great! thats what they wanted to do and they did it and it's very good. but reading interview with the vampire the book rn im realising how much potential vampires have to be metaphors for like so many things and i started wondering like 'wait, did carmilla just not really engage with it or did it all go over my head'. but it just didnt really engage with it all that much. which again is fine bc that wasnt what they were doing. im glad they were more about the lesbianism than the vampirism

but there's this interesting difference in framing, because in iwtv they keep calling armand 'ancient' right? and emphasising how old he is. and he's like 500? and i was like 'wait isnt carmilla like 400?'. she isnt, shes 340, but still, thats getting there, you know? and we know quite a lot about her history, but kind of just the Big Events. when she was turned, the events of the novella, coffin of blood, silas. thats sort of what we know. but none of the long lonely slog of history day to day you know? with armand i feel like we can really feel how much time everything takes. how every one of those years is made up of single days. with carmilla i dont feel that as much. i keep kind of thinking about daniel, when louis calls him a boy in the first episode, saying "im an old man, with all the triggers that come with it"

because carmilla might look 18 (or mid twenties at this point) but she has lived all that time. shes also seen her native land be claimed by like a succession of ruling powers, right? like armand. shes been buried alive, like louis. when lestat is born, shes already 80 years old, shes lived a whole human lifetime, and the entire adult part of it shes been a vampire. shes lived through 1680-1870 being a lure. i compared her to abigail hobbs in some tags on a post, i dont know if youre familiar with hannibal the tv show, but i do also kinda keep thinking about that comparison

if youre not familiar, in the first episode of hannibal the murderer of the week is this guy garrett jacob hobbs who kills and cannibalises girls who resemble his daughter. and later on it turns out she was made to be his lure. like they'd go places and he'd sent her to the victims to make friends and maybe get them back to their home or smth. not sure if they specified all the details. but that's what carmilla did for mother. and in s2 we hear from mattie that while every couple of decades carmilla had to lure victims for the fish god, she also seemed to just enjoy humans between those times, right? like the doctor, gets lonely, gets a new companion. but we've only sort of got mattie's mocking word for it ("dont eat him, hes a poet! or her, shes got such a wonderful voice. or that one, shes just too pretty to ruin"), we don't know exactly from carmilla's point of view what she was doing or why. if mattie's talking about stuff that happened after the blood coffin, 1950-now, then i think it's a fair assumption based on what carmilla says in the s1 sock puppet show that after she'd figured out what the real situation was and what her role in it was, when she'd started trying to save girls from being sacrificed, that she mightve been doing the same trying to save people from becoming mattie's victims. it's probably more likely that she was just trying to find excuses to stop mattie from sucking someone dry rather than actually having like an aesthetic based morality. but it might be a bit of both. im still trying to figure out what her philosophy actually is, like i dont know what existentialism actually means ghkfjghkj but i will

i also found it pretty striking in the movie when shes turning back into a vampire she says like "this was supposed to be done, you know? the blood lust, the self-loathing, the sleeping tied to a chair in my own bedroom". thats what defines her vampirism, wanting blood and hating yourself for it (the third part is a joke/reference to s1 but also i think meaningful for how she sees her relationship with laura when she IS a vampire. little bit of that 'she will reject me for my monstrousness' shining through). and thats what defines vampirism for lots of vampires across the genre obviously, but i dont know, it struck me. we dont get a lot from carmilla's pov, we know a fair amount about her, but the story is always told through laura. we get laura's diaries, but just snippets here and there from carmilla, what shes thinking, how shes feeling

and i love that shes a philosopher. i love that thats how she seems to try and find something to hold onto, in a world that kind of moves around her, having been murdered, kidnapped, turned and groomed to be a lure on the cusp of adulthood, never having been properly loved (the relationship with her father wasnt good she says in s3, and her mortal mother i dont think has ever been mentioned (like laura's)). the only good relationship she seems to have had for the better part of 3 centuries seems to have been mattie, and mattie seems to love being a vampire. i can imagine carmilla just sort of going along with anything mattie wants to do just because shes so desperate for that friendship. not like, against her will necessarily really. but more like, she hasnt even had the space to develop her own will, you know? and philosophy lets you do that. philosophy gives you frameworks to understand the world and to develop your own opinions on it. and by the 21st century she seems to have developed those opinions, she has a sense of her own values, but shes also still stuck in that same situation. shes jaded and cynical in the face of laura's optimism and strong moral code a lot of the time in s1 because she feels probably pretty powerless. like she does what she can to save some girls but at the end of the day shes scared of her mother and she has nowhere else to go really, right?

i like how she grapples with that over the course of the series, in tandem with laura grappling with her black and white morality. she sort of jumps ship from her mother to laura bc theyve fallen in love, but then laura still stuck in her hero thinking refuses to see her monstrous side. not literally bc i think the biological vampirism never seemed to be a problem for laura, but morally. the having murdered. carmilla needs laura to see that and love her while seeing it bc the last girl she loved rejected her for being a vampire.

but you see her kind of swing back and forth in s2. she softens first with laura but then they break up and she leans back hard into the sarcastic cynic defense mechanisms, leans hard into "im a monster, dont expect heroism from me". but thats like, it's sort of learned helplessness i think. it's powerlessness, resignation. bc morally shes not a monster. maybe she doesnt have as strong a drive to help other people as laura does and is a little more selfishly hedonistic in that she just wants to enjoy her/their life, but she doesnt hurt people for fun, she never has. she just sort of didnt have another option for a Really long time. so she pretends she doesnt care. "im a vampire, this is what i do, this is who i am". but clearly from the way she talks about it when she turns back into one, she doesnt enjoy it

and i like how she goes even further in s3, where she starts swinging even more to the heroic side, bc she sees hope. shes like "wow if we kill my mother, i'd be free". theres hope and she becomes like a lot more active. and shes like that at the start of the movie too, a lot happier, a lot more relaxed, and then vampirism is back and bam depression gfhgkjh like shes immediately more gloomy, ashamed of her past and her self, retreats into herself

sorry i just took this as an opportunity to dump all the carmilla thoughts floating in my head on you. you didnt ask fhkghgjh consider this an open invitation to you or anyone else to come talk to me about carmilla

#just finished watching the movie and i had actually forgotten but at the end shes a vampire again!#they totally gave us a super great opening for more conflict to explore hollstein's relationship #bc carmilla sort of puts closure to her past by taking responsibility for her part in it and it makes her a vampire again #and laura is like 'dont give up on our life together' and shes like 'im not giving up on anything!'#and laura is like 'we're supposed to live and get old and have grandkids how are we gonna do that if you dont age'#so thats a great set up #im putting the fic im writing i think another 5 years in the future #bc the movie is 5 years from the end of the series and im doing another 5 years so it's 2024 #but theres so much opportunity to play there. theres conflict. tehres problems to solve. but theyre in a good place #i dont think they ever specify how vampires are made in this universe #therees some posts on carmillas blog where she responds to asks abt why she doesnt turn laura or if she would #and she just says 'you have no idea how this works'#but that was still during the series and the writers obviously wanted to keep their options open and their writing cards a bit closer to #the chest #but at this point you could make laura a vampire #you could explore that. see how they both feel abt that. would bea difficult decision #theyre also not married yet in the movie #they celebrate carmilla's 'rebirthday' where she turned human again #you could do a thing where they turn laura on that same day. sort of make that their wedding #not an easy decision i think. i think it would take a lot of discussion to get them there but not impossible #and would be fun to explore. both their feelings abt all that. and like anotehr 5 years in the future where they are in their lives #idk idk. brainstorming #thanks for giving me an opportunity to infodump a little :)#carmillaposting

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