#let's see how many boxes we can tick off:

[yeliuxi]

If I had a nickel for every time Priest did a racism in Qi Ye. Well. I would be rich 🙃

[papasbaseball]

The Wizard x Reader (Wonderful Wonderful Girl) | Chapter 2

Pairing: Wizard x F!Reader

Rating: Teen (Rating to Increase)

Warnings: Power Imbalance, Boss/Employee Relationship

Summary: Being a maid in the Royal Palace of Oz is not half so bad. Despite the meager wages, everything else is provided for you for an honest day's work. It can be unnerving working for the most powerful man in Oz, but you are able to avoid him most of the time. This changes during Lurlinemas, your paths soon becoming inextricably intertwined.

Word Count: 2,899 of 5,084 Prev | Next

AO3 Link

The Markets of Oz are normally packed during the daytime, ladies coming and going to get groceries and maybe a new dress or two, but they are flooded during the night markets of Lurlinemas. If you have the chance to look without getting swallowed in the waves of the crowd, you can see green lights strung from brick building to brick building (the bricks painted green for lack of renovation funds), newly built stalls in the main square that sold roasted quail for a quarter, and a great Spruce that had been brought in from Winkie Country, its top cresting just past the meager buildings that boxed in the square. Emily tugs me along as I admire the great golden star that was perched atop it, emeralds chiseled into the shape of snowflakes adorning each tip.

"If we move any slower they're going to run out of hot chocolate," she says, pulling me by my elbow.

The hot chocolate in the night market is one of a kind, spiced with warm cinnamon and sweetened to the point that it hurts your teeth. If I could have it year-round, I think I would like that very much, even if I did eventually get sick of it. I follow after her in our immediate quest, trying to shoulder oblivious men and women out of the way.

"How many presents do you need to get?" I ask as we get in line for the cocoa.

Emily pulls her green-gloved hands out of her pocket, silently ticking off her checklist on her fingers. "Six," she says.

I try not to drop my jaw at the idea of such wastefulness. I'm not sure there are six people that I could call friends, much less that I would be willing to spend my wages on for silly presents. In truth, there was one, but she would chastise me if I tried to get her anything. Still, I couldn't help but wish for something to get her.

We order our hot chocolate and sip it as we stroll through the sea, dipping and dodging any particularly rude costume choices. We had stuck to our uniforms, hiding them under the woolen pine-colored peacoats that were standard issue for when we had to lend an extra hand in shoveling off any balconies that got covered in snow during the wintertime. There was no option for us to have extra extra wide-brimmed hats or wired puffy sleeves that were the size of small dogs. Even if we had the option, I don't think that I would have done it on a regular market day, much less in the nights leading up to Lurlinemas.

Emily stops at an ornament seller and takes her time browsing the brilliant sun catchers and rhinestone-encrusted baubles. The glass and “sodering” (I’m sure it’s silver-colored glue) look far too flimsy, so I tell her I'm going to the next booth to look at ribbons and laces. The price of laces haven't gotten any better (in fact they had gone up by 6 cents) but I look at them anyway.

Most clothing could be mended, but there was only so much to be done about laces as they became more and more unraveled. If you had a friend in the mailroom, you could persuade them to let you borrow some rubber cement to stick the frays back together. If you didn't, you had to dip the tips of your laces in the wax of your candle at night. The wax didn't last nearly as long as the cement, usually cracking off within a day or two. I wasn’t friendly with anyone in the mail room, so I had slowly been shortening and dipping my laces until they just barely tied in a regular knot.

My eyes flicked over the shades of olive and forest and moss, until they had reached the box of ribbons. There is a skip in my heart as I remember how the Wizard had tied the ribbon in my hair just days ago. If I close my eyes, I can feel his hands guiding the ribbon up from the nape of my neck and the warmth that radiated from them as he tied the bow in place. If it is true or not, in my mind he has a smile when he looks at me after. I wonder if these ribbons would make him smile like the one I still have in my hair, if they would make him...

I have to look away from the ribbons for a brief moment. The thoughts I had of him since that day have not been pure and kind. They are selfish. I know that they will lead me down a path of trouble if I linger on them. I have my sister to think about and it would not do if I were to lose my job at the palace. I could not save her from the children's home, but they still let me visit her and send her things. I don't send her much, most of it disappears within a few days, but I bring her sweets if I have time to swing by the bakery after I am no longer needed for the day.

Looking back at the ribbons, I can't help but wish I could get one for her. I want her to feel as pretty as I did that day in the Wizard's bedroom. The kids would have a harder time taking the ribbon from her if I braided it into her hair, away from their jealous hands. My eyes flick up to the price card that is held in a coily golden wire stand. 200 cents! It's more than double the price of the laces.

I bite my lip, but my mind is already made up. I look at the shop lady, but she has her back turned attending to the till and adding pennies to it from a green paper sleeve. I snatch a pistachio-colored satin ribbon and shove it into the pocket of my peacoat. Quickly, I slip back out into the crowd of people, heading back to Emily in the ornament booth.

I'm jerked back, my forearm locked in an iron grip as it is hoisted high, so high above my head that I'm afraid my shoulder will dislocate.

"Hey!" I shout.

"There is zero tolerance for stealing in the Emerald City," The man says. I scrape my tiptoes against the ground to get a better look at him and realize that I've been detained by one of the Emerald City's Royal Guards. The green coat with gold trim and accents is unmistakable, accompanied by a sharp green officer's cap.

"I didn't steal," I lie.

He fishes into my coat pocket and pulls out the ribbon that I had stashed in there. "Is that so?" he says. My shoulder burns as he drags me back to the lace and ribbon booth, chucking the spooled-up ribbon back to the shop lady. "Sorry about that, Hazel. Street rat."

I can't help it as the words come flying out of my mouth, “I am not a street rat! I work at the palace!"

"Good," he says. "Then I know where to take you. Lets me get off my shift earlier at least."

He lowers my arm, only to twist it up behind my back, his other gloved hand grabbing hold of the collar of my coat. I shout at Emily, trying to fight against him as he marches us past the ornament booth, but I'm not sure she heard me. She has a confused look on her face as I'm dragged off, but she doesn't do anything to interfere. We may share a bed in this cold weather, but she's never been the type to stick her neck out for anyone, no matter how big or small the injustice. I wouldn't expect her to start with me.

By the time we get to the palace the hand behind my back is numb from the position and the cold air. The shame and fight has long since left my body, my mind trying to focus on how I will provide for my sister and me, or even if I will be allowed to see her again. Do they let criminals into the children's home? Would they even let me stay in the Emerald City? I try to remember what happened to criminals that were detained in the palace. There had been a boy in the kitchen who had been caught with a whole ham hock in his bag when the kitchen staff was closing up one night this past summer. It had been such a scandal -- it was all the staff could talk about for two whole weeks straight -- but in the end, I could not remember what had become of him, only his original crime that had been passed on by those who had been in the kitchen when the joint had been discovered.

We don't go through the main doors, neither the servant's entrance, but rather a side door that I had never seen before. It must have been for guard use only. They crawl the castle like an infestation of ants, so it only seems natural that they, like ants, would have cracks and crevices to aid their coming and going. It's dark, but soon I see that we are in the main entryway. If I can remember correctly, the guards' barracks and offices occupy the left wing from the audience room (convenience for removing unruly guests from the days of King Pastoria, I suppose). Most in the Wizard's personal service have no reason to go there.

The Wizard. There's a sort of heavy disappointment that sits like an oversized and cold jewel on my chest, deep beneath the layers of wool and scarves and uniform. It's not the disappointment that a child might feel under the disapproving eye of a parent, no. It is something entirely unfamiliar: an anger at myself that I might never see him again, that my last impression on him will be one of a thief. But wasn't that what I was? I had stolen the ribbon, no intention of paying.

The guard marches me up through the darkened emerald halls, passing the large pillars, the walls carved with their sharp geometric designs. I take in the sight of all of it knowing that it will be my last time seeing any of it. We're crossing the audience room, the heart of the entire palace, and nearly to the other side when I see him.

He's in a deep green almost black suit. The lapels of the jacket are peaked giving him the appearance of being even taller than he already is. He's talking to a stocky man, at least two heads shorter than him and twice as wide, wearing the uniform of the palace guards with a few additional golden cords strung over his chest that my jailer doesn't have.

I try walking faster, dragging the guard who had my arm pinned behind my back. I don't want him to see me like this. Better to just have all of my stuff gathered and thrown out the back door with me than to disgrace myself even further.

"Uh…Guard," a voice calls. I know it's his. I hate that I know that it's his.

My captor stops in his tracks, spinning us around to address the two men. "Captain," he says, giving a nod to the shorter man.

The Wizard has a confused if not irritated look on his face. I can tell that I've made him upset. How poorly must this reflect on the palace if members of his staff are getting arrested in the street? He says, "Are you going somewhere?"

The guard looks to the stocky man who gives him a subtle nod of the head. "Street rat," my captor says. "I caught her stealing in the market. I'm taking her to booking and calling the head of staff for the palace. She said she works here."

"Well, yeah," the Wizard says. "I can see that. Anyone can see that." He approaches me and pinches the thick wool of one of my coat lapels in between his thumb and forefinger. I try not to look too hard at the gold ring on his thumb as he drags it back and forth lazily against the material, stroking it as if to assess the warmth of the garment. "She's wearing a palace coat. Initials on it and everything."

My captor seems tongue-tied by this, I can hear his mouth open, a gasp for air as if to say something but nothing comes out. I dare to look up and see that the Wizard has his eyes locked on him. The way he's looking at him with those amber eyes reminds me of grade school, when we learned about the flora and fauna of Oz in biology. When talking of tigers, our teacher had told us that if you could see their eyes through the grass it was already too late. You had been stalked for hours before even noticing and they never got close enough for you to notice until you couldn't get away even if you tried. Foolishly, he tries, saying, "I need to take her to booking. She is a stain on the image of the palace."

The wizard drops my lapel and walks back to the officer that is now resting his hand on the pommel of his sword. It makes me nervous, but I'm not sure for who. Would they execute me right here in the audience chamber? I wouldn't be the first. The Wizard bends down and whispers something to the officer. I watch his eyes tick back and forth as he processes the secret.

"Guard," the officer says, "Leave her to me. I am sure you are wanted back in the square. Where there is one thief there is sure to be more."

I can't see his face, but I know that my captor is annoyed. He'd been hoping to clock out early and now he had to walk all the way back down to the market square. That brings a smile to my face as I hear the hesitant click of his boots and feel all the blood start rushing back into my arm as he lets me go.

We stand there, the three of us, until we hear the loud echo of the door shutting. The short man salutes the Wizard and makes his exit. The smile drops from my face as I realize what little law and witnesses there were had just walked out of the room, leaving me alone with the tiger.

"Stealing?" he says, cocking his head to the side. Immediately, he sets to pacing around me.

"It was just a ribbon, Your Wonderfulness," I say. My shoes have become infinitely more interesting to me, noticing the way even the stitching of the leather to the soles was starting to fray near the toes.

He laughs and it is quiet and deep, sending a prickling from my shoulders down my spine. "Did you like the first one that much? You could have asked for another."

"It wasn't for me," I say.

I can feel him tug on the braids that wrap my head. I had woven the ribbon into them earlier today. There hadn't been a day where I hadn't worn his ribbon since I got it. It was risky, and eventually Emily or someone else would catch on, but I didn't want to leave it in my nightstand and come back to find it missing, pilfered by someone's sticky fingers. So I had woven it into my hair where no one could take it, where the Wizard was now tracing its crooked and dashed path against my scalp.

"You are a terrible liar, missy" he says. "What are we going to do with you?"

Let me go? Kick me out of the palace? In truth, I wanted things to just go back to the way they were, no ribbon, no staff suspicions, just me and my chores and the shared bed with Emily. My voice quavers as I feel his finger stray from the twisted path of the ribbon, wandering onto the pulse of my bare neck, stopping underneath the corner of my jaw. "I won't do it again," I choke out.

"Oh, I have no doubt of that," he says. "But you can't be trusted. To have a thief in my staff... well, it would just cause too many problems. First ribbons, next other things..." He completes his circle around me and I find myself facing him again.

"Are you going to kill me?" I ask.

He smiles, revealing to me a flash of hungry white teeth. Too late. He says, "Do you want me to?"

I shake my head, my lips stitched together in case any wrong words should fall from them.

"Such a fascinating creature," he says, perhaps to me or perhaps to himself. "I'll deal with you tomorrow. Why don't you go upstairs and get some rest? I have... things to arrange."

He leaves me there in the audience chamber, shaking. If you see them, it is too late. I am standing there, head still on my shoulders, and yet I know that I haven't escaped. If you see them, it is too late.

[literaticat]

I'm at my wit's end. I've spent a decade trying to break through - 10 years with 5 novels coming super close with a variety of big publishers, who rave about my writing, ideas, etc. Feedback has been mostly positive. One even rejected saying "I don't know why we're rejecting this, it's EXACTLY what we're looking for and ticks all our boxes, but we feel compelled to reject it anyway." Is there just a "Do Not Publish" sign on my head? How to keep pushing ahead after so long and so much rejection?

(OP continues...) "Sorry about the rant, Jenn, and I know there's not much you can say as you don't know my specific situation. But it's just maddening. 10+ years of my life! I know everyone faces rejection, but I seem to mostly get positive feedback and so many "close calls" of almost getting a deal - a lot of interest, but then it just peters out. That "compelled to reject anyway" just made me start feeling like I'm just fated to never be published, no matter what? I'm unagented now, starting from scratch..."

OK first of all -- that rejection, if that is literally what they said, is utterly insane. I have to presume (HOPE? PRAY?) that you are paraphrasing, that that is what it *felt* like to you, but that's not LITERALLY what they said??? Because there are certainly things where, on the surface, yes, this is what a publisher is looking for and it "ticks the boxes", but ultimately, it doesn't have that X-factor, je ne sais quois, or whatever -- so I can see a publisher saying something like, "while the writing is admirable and the premise is interesting, ultimately, we weren't compelled enough to make an offer for publication" -- which is ALMOST what you said, but there's a key difference that makes it actually normal and not insane. Because in YOUR version, it sounds like they are under an imperius curse or something, where they don't know what they are doing or why they are doing it, they just have to do it, even though it is against what WOULD be their better judgment if they weren't cursed. And... it's wild to think that a publisher would make a statement like that. (Maybe they were having a very OFF DAY???) -- BUT ANYWAY, on to the crux of your question/rant:

I understand your frustration. If it makes you feel any better (??), you're not alone. I know many -- MANY -- MANY career authors, who spent 10 years honing their craft, trying and failing, getting rejections, getting close-but-no-cigars, etc. I was chatting with a wise (and now famous) author I know, who spent 10 years or so in the query/wrong-agent/rejection/close-call trenches. She told me a theory that I feel pretty sure is right, though I don't have proof per se, it does track with my observations. She said:

Just about everyone who sticks with writing or the arts in general as a career has about a ten-year rough patch. That doesn't mean it takes everyone ten years to get published! (Though it does take LOTS of people 10+ years) -- Some lucky people get their break a lot sooner than that. BUT. Everyone has to pay the piper that ten year fee, either all at once, or in installments. So let's say you sell your book right away and start raking in the accolades etc -- fab! Just know that nobody stays popular and beloved forever, and at some point, the ten year slump is coming for you. Aren't you lucky that you're getting yours out of the way now?

OK, if that didn't work for you, how about this:

How to keep pushing ahead after so long and so much rejection?

You know you don't have to, right?

Like, if writing and seeking traditional publication is making you miserable -- you can stop. In fact, stopping may be a great idea.

I say this not to be discouraging, but rather, encouraging, actually. I encourage you to give yourself permission to prioritize your own mental and emotional well-being.

If you realize you miss writing and can't live without it -- go back to it! But maybe instead of having "publication" as your goal, your goal can be writing for the pure joy of it, without worrying about future queries or would-be agents or anyone else's expectations. What freedom! Embrace that!

Then when you do have a brand-new shiny manuscript, you can decide your next steps. Maybe it's trying again for traditional publishing, and this is the turn around the track that changes everything. (It should be close, if the 10 year theory is correct!)

OR, maybe it's self-publishing. (Lots of people have a lot of success there -- maybe you're one of them!) --

OR, maybe it's just chilling out and writing some more for your own pleasure -- creating art for the sake of creating it, for fun, for self-fulfillment, etc. Like, you know, a normal hobby, that nobody is expecting you to monetize or make into a "gig".

[let-us-cultivate-our-garden]

What do you think of season 2 of arcane? i've seen quite... a contrasting reaction from the public when compared to the reaction that s1 got

[cracks knuckles] ok, first some context: I was, and still am, largely unfamiliar with the League of Legends video games, which probably colors my perception of Arcane as a whole. The first season was incredible. 10/10 no notes. It's a masterpiece of animation hands down. One of its many strengths is that it sticks to a self-contained story that does not require lore knowledge or even knowledge of who the characters from the games are. It's a character drama wrapped in a steampunk/sci-fi/fantasy aesthetic. It tells a grounded story that follows its characters as their arcs play out all the way through to the end. I love it and habitually rewatched it while waiting for season 2.

...And then season 2 came and it kinda went. I enjoyed the season. The animation, music, voice acting, all incredible and it's what makes the season a joyride. But that's pretty much what it is. A joyride. That grounded story and character drama was largely dropped for bigger stakes and it feels like the season lost the plot. You were invested in the Zaun/Piltover conflict? Let's have Jayce give a half-assed speech about working together to defeat a common enemy and give Sevika a token seat at the councillors' table. You wanted to see how Jinx and Vi's relationship developed after the bombing? Well, Vi says "my sister is gone." Until Vander/Warwick shows up. But they don't really talk about their relationship or how much they've both changed. They're just cool with each other know.

Did you want to see how Jinx deals with the fallout of killing her father figure and embracing the role of the Mad Bomber? Well, she kinda mopes for a bit. Finds a street urchin that magically cures her of her mental instability. oops, street urchin is dead. Jinx is depressed now. fun. It's not like the marketing lead us to believe that Jinx was going to be an actual antagonist, right?

right?

Now, I know trailers and posters can be misleading but come on. Season 1 ended with her fully becoming Jinx and I feel like she was more Jinx-like there than in season 2.

We got less of the sisters than in the first season despite being the emotional core of the story. Part of that is the escalating conflict and having far too many antagonists. We have Ambessa, Viktor, and the Black Rose and they all take up too much screen time (this last one was a huge ??? for me as a noob to the games. Actually, Mel's whole arc in season 2 was so divorced from season 1 that it feels like they just gave her magic powers just so she could participate in the fight). The other part is that when the sisters are together, they don't really say or do anything meaningful. The dialogue is rather boilerplate and there's no emotional weight to their scenes. It's just there.

That's really my problem with season 2 as a whole, it just feels like it's ticking off boxes to get to the big action sequences, and even some of those felt superfluous (did we really need a fight scene with Smeech? Smeech? Who the fuck is he and why should we care?). The funny thing is that, there are a lot of good ideas here. Jinx feeling conflicted about suddenly being seen as a symbol of the people? Awesome! Caitlyn falling under the sway of Ambessa as she mourns her mother and gasses innocent civilians in her mad pursuit of Jinx? Great! Viktor slowly losing his humanity and becoming the Machine Herald while Jayce struggles to right what they have wronged and get his friend back? Excellent! The problem is that they're all crammed together and don't get room to breathe, so everything is rushed and unsatisfactory.

When your first season ends with four people at a dinner table that explores their character dynamics and your second season's climax looks like a Marvel movie, there's a problem.

(also, side tangent: Silco and Vander's backstory was shoddy and contradictory. Making them BFFs with Vi and Jinx's mom was a bad idea. It cheapens Vander's decision to leave behind a life of violence and adopt two orphans. It introduces a plot hole that Silco wasn't around for the kids' childhood and makes that moment when he tries to kill Powder extra weird. PLUS, we have the ever lovely trope of fridging a woman and making her the catalyst of conflict between two male characters 😒

although this season did make me ship these two, so there's that👍)

(another mini tangent: I'm not fond of making a time traveling Viktor the one who gave baby Jayce the rune stone. That scene was one of my favorites from season 1 and the mage actually being Viktor just makes the world feel smaller and less enigmatic YMMV).

So there you have it. An overall okay season but one that pales in comparison to its predecessor.

[germiyahu]

Not too thrilled that my other post is getting so many notes when I'm not satisfied with it for a multitude of reasons. Let's have a do-over, hopefully much more succinct and to the original point.

When Palestinians, actually basically all Arabs, or all Muslims, say "Jerusalem is holy to us it is the 3rd holiest city in our religion." The White Western Leftist (WWL) will say "That's so valid your religion is so interesting and beautiful Hamas did nothing wrong I love the Houthis!"

But if a Jew ever rebuts "Jerusalem is holy to us as well, it's our holiest city, basically the only one we have," the WWL will probably roll their eyes, scoff, probably say something like "Okay but like why are you still using your outdated Zionist death cult to justify colonialism? You really think the Bible justifies killing millions of Palestinians?" and start going on and on about how Judaism invented everything bad about Christianity.

My hypothesis: These people are not allies to Muslims (Palestinians). They are condescending to them. They are throwing them a bone because they feel bad about how the Muslim world has been treated, well ever since Sykes-Picot, but especially post 9/11, the Patriot Act, The War on Terror, Iraq, Afghanistan, the Drone War, Libya, Nato, The Arab Spring, the list goes on. They don't think Muslims are capable of building the kind of societies they want, not without their gracious help. They don't think Muslims should have the same ideals of democracy and human rights, because they don't expect that from the Brown People. They won't ever hold them to such a standard because "Ugh where do we get off lecturing them?" even though they would never think this of Jews.

These people are not equals to Jews, something something Sartre they think they are both superior and inferior (which makes them superior). They are not just trying to hold their fellow citizens of the world to account. They are trying to put Jews in their place. They are projecting their religious trauma onto Jews because they do not understand Judaism. They see Judaism as Power. They are trying to delegitimize Judaism as a religion (and it is a religion, including the parts of religions that give atheists the "ick," including a lot of mysticism). They are trying to caterwaul about Jews being responsible for the world's ills and that they expect Jewish People to be better than this. To evolve beyond religion and community and affiliation and identity. They want Jewish to be nothing more than a box ticked off on a census. A neat little factoid about yourself, like how your neighbor Cheryl has Norwegian ancestry.

My only conclusion is that these people find Jews and Judaism repulsive, and they find Muslims and Islam primitive. Unlike their parents' generation, they appreciate the primitive. It is noble savagery to them. Unlike their parents' generation, the comparatively cosmopolitan modern secular Western sheen of Jewry (applied to Jews against their will) is not something that we almost lost from the world, but an annoying holdover of what we almost successfully purged from the world.

Because remember, while they hate their parents and everything they stand for, they still deep down want Daddy's approval. So it makes perfect sense why the psyche would displace anger and trauma and all that caused by Christianity, and look elsewhere to place blame. It falls at the feet of Jews and Judaism. Because my culture could never, there has to be a missing puzzle piece that could explain- oh there it is. The Jews did it. And wow look how easily this can slot in with every other antisemitism conspiracy theory.

The audacity to think I could make a shorter version of that post 😂 But basically it's this: The WWL, the Zoomer Left, the Tankies, whatever name you call them... they think that they can "save" Muslims by offering up Jews, and the terrorist fascist fundamentalists like Hamas, Hezbollah, the Houthis, they're on board. They're all in. Normal ass every day Muslims/Palestinians? They just want peace, they just want rights, they just want sovereignty. The WWL is not interested in that perspective.

They have not once in their lives thought of what they could possibly do in terms of reparations. No no, tweeting and marching for a weekend are quite enough. They have not once in their lives turned inward and self reflected on the ways they benefit from and their own role in these systems of supremacy, that have harmed Muslims around the world. Jewish blood is more than enough to pay for operation Iraqi Freedom. Jewish lives are a fetching price to assuage the Westerner's guilt. You know since they have so much trouble turning inward and reflecting on their own contribution to Islamophobia, it might do them good to practice a little תשובה... but I don't know 😌

[djarinova]

dinem miscommunication you say... 👀🎤

(my unpopular opinion is miscommunication is actually be a very good and realistic trope and it's the realism that frustrates people hehe but it can be so good for plot and tension !!)

i do indeed say miscommunication with din 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ (although this is probably a more general x reader miscomm than anything selfship related)

AND @stevebabey and i have been yelling about this for days in the dms so everybody say thank you ruby for having such a huge brain and for screaming about this entire concept w me <3 divider by @/saradika

i just think miscommunication goes hand and hand with who din is as a character—he's stoic, almost unreadable at times (and the helmet certainly does not help with that), he doesn't say anything more than is necessary and he has such a complex and interesting childhood and backstory and many of his romantic... viewpoints, shall we say, are deeply traditional and seem very old school to an outsider.

the miscommunication itself will come when he's finally ready to confess his feelings for you (if i was to write everything that came in-between the first meet and this moment then this would become a fully fledged fic but let me just say this: he grappled with his feelings for a l o n g time, im talking years of knowing you, and i know it's implicitly implied but he trusts you more than anyone else in the galaxy and there have been afew moments were he's almost slipped up and spilled his feelings for you—or so he thinks—and he's agonised himself over how best to approach the subject with you) and you completely misread his intention.

he offers you something—an object of great value to him, something that he feels will bring you security and safety or something that he wants you to keep close to you whenever he is far away (a weapon with an engraving, a compass with a glimmering star along the rim, a small piece of cloth embroidered with a word that you can't read in a language you don't understand)—and you reject it. it looks too clean, too fancy, too nice. and so you politely say "Oh. Din, no... I-I can't take this from you..." and you can actually visibly see his disappointment, it's only for a split second, but his head tilts and his shoulders deflate just ever so slightly, but it's there and it makes you a little confused, it's just a gift, there have been plenty of times when I've offered him something and he's said no, why is it only a problem when I do it??

it ticks you off, just a little, but you let it go. turning and stalking back into the hull of the ship as din watched you disappear feeling crestfallen and embarrassed. because he really thought you would accept it.

and here's the thing, this object, this gift that din was trying to give you, it isn't just an ordinary gift. with it came the question of a relationship, it was customary for a man to offer an heirloom to the person he wishes to court—and considering everything he's been through, it was lucky that he had kept that tiny slither of his past with him all this time, after everything he's lost he wasn't even sure he would ever get to offer it to anyone but he had kept it anyway, locked in a box underneath his bed, just waiting, gathering dust... until you came along.

and then comes the angst. he starts acting differently towards you, it's reminiscent of how he acted when he first met you and it makes you sick to your stomach. you constantly worry that youve done something to upset him (which in a way, you have). he barely speaks more than 5 words to you a day and it is enough to make you feel completely guilty over something that you dont even remember doing! and that realisation makes you angry, you dont even remember upsetting him! you havent said anything odd or screwed up a bounty or messed up something with the child and he's acting totally irrationally, ignoring you and treating you like you dont even exist.

the resolution comes after almost 3-4 months of this. youve grown used to your new dynamic now, and even though you wish you knew the reason for his behaviour, and you wish it wasnt like this, you accept how things are. your anger has slowly dissipated and now you mostly feel fine, still hurt and confused, but din has given you plenty of opportunities to leave over the last few months and you have yet to even consider it—you don't want to leave and despite his best efforts, you still care for him.

perhaps you overhear a conversation in a market between two people who are discussing The Mandalorian, or perhaps you hear din talking to a friend or maybe you read something in a book, but whatever it is, something happens and it clicks for you. the reason din has been so distant is not because he doesnt like you, or because he wants you to leave the ship... it's because he felt embarrassed when you rejected his gift, it's because he has been trying to give you space so you dont feel suffocated by his feelings. he's been doing this for you.

and so you storm up to him, wind beneath your sails now, and demand to know what the hell is wrong with him. if he had just been clear about his feelings then neither of you would've had to be so miserable these past few months. and why didnt he just TELL YOU about the meaning behind the gift.

and he's like would that have changed anything?

and you swallow hard, making eye contact with where you assume his eyes sit behind his visor and you say yes, din, in a whispered voice, it wouldve changed everything.

anyways .......

[greenqueenhightower]

Welcome to yet another episode of DISTURBING Things I Notice in HOTD:

Today’s installment is on bloodlust and dermatillomania (tw!) as expressed by our two key figures of the Dance, Rhaenyra and Alicent, and their similarities between Daemon and Criston respectively (pls bear with me on this).

First up, even though we have seen many scenes of bloodshed in the show, I want to mainly talk about the two scenes of bloodlust we have seen with Rhaenyra in episode 3 where she kills a boar, and with Alicent when she cuts Rhaenyra's arm at Driftmark.

Why, though, do I say bloodlust? Because it describes a desire for bloodshed and carnage, often aroused in the heat of battle or the moment, leading to uncontrolled slaughter and torture. The perfect example of this description is Criston's killing of Joffrey at Leanor's & Rhaenyra's wedding because it was moved by a desire for bloodshed further motivated by Criston's emotional turmoil, it was aroused in the heat of the moment because Joffrey provoked him, and, most importantly, he had lost control. This means that Criston is not generally like that; had he not lost control, he would not have performed the act.

The exact OPPOSITE is Daemon's cold-hearted killing of Vaemond: there was no underlying desire, the moment was not heated, nor was he personally attacked, and he did not display any loss of control. This means that he did not need any provocation to perform the act. In other words, bloodlust and bloodshed are in general part of Daemon's character.

I think that the analysis of these two extremes helps in understanding where Alicent and Rhaenyra lay in the spectrum of bloodlust.

Starting off with the scene at the hunt where she slays the boar, Rhaenyra ticks all the boxes for bloodlust: a desire for bloodshed because of the hunt, arousal in the heat of the moment because she was attacked by the beast, which then results in uncontrolled slaughter. Yet, that doesn’t seem to have any effect on Rhaenyra, as we see her walking back to the camp, completely drenched in blood. Her sight stuns and terrifies spectators, Alicent included, but Rhaenyra's detached attitude toward carnage resembles that of Daemon's. I am not saying that bloodshed and carnage are part of her character to the extent that they are a part of Daemon’s, but she and he both display a higher tolerance to the sight, thought and feel of the act.

Let's get now to the scene at Driftmark and the confrontation between Alicent and Rhaenyra. Alicent, too, ticks all three of the boxes for bloodlust at that moment: a desire for bloodshed because of the maiming of her son, arousal in the heat of the moment because her concerns are not taken seriously, and loss of control that results in obtaining the Valyrian steel dagger and cutting Rhaenyra's arm. However, Alicent shows how horrified she is that the situation has gotten out of control, and she drops the dagger. Later on, we see her remorse which mirrors Criston's, who wanted to commit suicide. They both understood the lengths of their actions and were devastated.

And what about Rhaenyra when she gets cut in that scene? She is once again oblivious to the pain, staring Alicent dead in the eyes which terrifies Alicent even more. I have a few reasons as to why.

First of all, Alicent suffered from dermatillomania growing up, which is a mental health condition where a person compulsively picks or scratches their skin, causing injuries or scarring. Also known as excoriation disorder or skin-picking disorder, this condition falls under the category of obsessive-compulsive disorders (OCDs) and can be triggered by anxiety. There are several scenes where we see that same anxiety permeate Alicent and her resort to dermatillomania, as early as episode 1 (this is where her brother Gwayne is fighting with Daemon):

What science says is that such behavior is anxiety-induced, a clinical condition, and even though she could stop it if she chose to, it is not that easy or simple. Alicent was addicted to the numbing pain as a relief from her anxiety but she loathed herself for its destructive nature. She was often made fun of it by her father who told her that she was "destroying herself." We see that as her confidence grew in the later episodes, and when she was released from the strenuous puppeteering of Otto, she was able to overcome the habit.

To my eyes, this is why it is shocking for Alicent to a) cause pain to Rhaenyra and b) to see Rhaenyra oblivious to such pain. The fact that Rhaenyra doesn’t even flinch, when Alicent hated herself for causing harm to her own body for years and when she already hates herself for losing her temper, confirms to her Rhaenyra’s absolute callousness. Yes, she, who lusts after what she wants and knows no limits, and whose ambition runs thicker than blood, does feel entitled to Aemond’s eye.

In fact, Alicent barely recognizes Rhaenyra at this moment. Alicent has just become afraid of herself, and of the newly discovered bloodlust she didn’t know she had, and seeing Rhaenyra show no reaction to the pain, Alicent becomes doubly afraid of Rhaenyra. The one who stares deeply into her eyes and shows her that she cannot hurt her. Who tells her that she can take in much more. Who is not like Alicent, to become consumed by pain. Rhaenyra is a warrior, and she is capable of showing her heartlessness when necessary. And that’s when Alicent understands that she doesn’t know Rhaenyra anymore. Alicent becomes even more afraid of her, and the person she has become. The person she could potentially turn into when provoked.

This is what absolutely terrifies yet humanizes Alicent, who already hated herself for causing injury to herself, and who hates herself now for causing injury to Rhaenyra. Yet Rhaenyra won't let her hurt or pain show like Alicent does, and she is used to causing injury without feeling anything; just like Daemon.

*added the coloring to keep track of the many lines of thought happening here

[according2thelore]

literally love your ls/es verse like nothing else. 💖 “ES!Sam sees LS!Sam as a brow-beaten, pathetic man who won't stand up for himself,” <- !!!!!!! would kill to see ES sam call his older self pathetic to his face!!!! LS dean momentarily awoken out of his tongue-panting love for ES sam to be like- now wait just a second-

eeee hello beth!!!!!

yes yes yes omg let's discuss

"what's your problem?"

sammy looks up, surprised. he's in the middle of trying to scrub a stubborn ring of coffee from the bottom of his favourite mug, and turns around at the familiar voice.

it's still weird hearing it in the second person, but his younger self stands in the doorway. he looks angry.

older dean went to get some extra dishtowels from the laundry room because they've been disappearing for a week. he likes to help sam dry, and comes to loom ominously over his shoulder when he tries to do the dishes by himself if dean's home.

it's cute. kind of. weird, mostly.

"you're washing the dishes." sam says. sammy looks down at the dishes in the sink.

"yes?" sammy says, slowly.

this seems to make sam angrier.

"did you just...completely give up?" sam spits.

sammy looks down at the mug again. no, he's really trying to get this stain out. sam is still framed in the doorway, and takes a step forward. he seems acutely aware of sammy's ineptitude.

"you're washing the dishes like this is a home. like anything here belongs to you, instead of to the fifty dead guys whose beds you sleep in." sam says. his jaw ticks. sammy sees younger dean's head poke around the corner, and slide in to the kitchen behind him.

sammy sighs.

this must be part two. he and sam had gotten into it this morning about the bunker. sam had cut his hand on an old metal door jamb and got not one, but two, deans fussing over him for hours.

how the fuck is this our life? sam had hissed, pulling sam aside after. we swore we wanted out. wanted normal. i just sliced my palm open on a fallout shelter door.

sammy didn't have anything to give. this was his life. and for the most part, sammy liked it. having dean was worth all the rest of it pulled together. a house couldn't protect them like the bunker could. it couldn't allow them to help as many people as they did.

but sam clearly hasn't let it go. he's been building this for hours.

sammy doesn't have the energy to give him the fight he wants, but he's still pissed.

"i know it's not what we planned." sammy says, looking at his younger self sharply. "plans change. and i'm happy."

"are you?" sam spits, and it sounds like a challenge. "you're miserable. you flinch at every sound, you can barely look me in my eye, your dean threw your amulet away--"

sam flinches. hard. it feels like getting punched in the gut. a part of him--the pack rat part he's never been able to kill--wants to run back to his room and make sure the amulet is still there, hidden in his box.

"woah," younger dean says, "sammy."

he takes a step forward, wide eyes on the side of his face.

"what the fuck are we doing here?" sam says, his voice rising. he's gesturing wildly at the concrete walls, the canned lighting, the industrial steel counters.

sammy knows that logically, he's hurting. but fuck. he feels like he's just been gutted and unspooled all over the kitchen.

you can't even keep dean. how hard is it to lose the only thing we've ever had?

"well," older dean walks back in, a dishtowel over each shoulder. "i'm drying dishes." he nods at his younger self. "he's shitting his pants." he nods at sammy, but doesn't take his eyes off younger sam. "he's washing, and you're...yelling."

sam looks a little abashed, but his jaw doesn't lose its set.

"why won't you answer me?" younger sam asks, all venom and vitriol. he takes a step forward, trying to meet sammy's eyes, but sammy won't let him.

he threw yours away. he threw yours away.

"what?" dean says, and his voice is weird. it's tight, rough, and the deans look back and forth between the sams like stuck in factory reset.

a sam needs defending and a sam needs backup on offense.

which one, which one, which one?

"i'm sorry that i'm not what you want, sam." sammy says, weary.

sammy knows it's not sam's fault. he's been told for months and months now that he is going to change, he is going to warp, and there is something innate in him that will make him not himself anymore.

and here sammy is, looking weary and acting differently and beaten down by years and years of "something" that no one will tell him about.

it's terrifying.

but sammy can't keep being his punching bag anymore. he's exhausted, and it's not fair. sam can put his adult pants on and fucking deal.

"not what i want?" sam scoffs, drawing up to his full height. it's the same as sammy's, but he doesn't meet his rage. it probably looks ridiculous that sam has over 10 years of age and close to 60 pounds in muscle on this kid, and he's trying to get in sam's face.

"what i want is a functioning adult. what i want is to be as far away from this grave as possible." sam says, tone implacable and hard and sharp. "what i want is a life. that's what we wanted. you gave up. you became dad! you're pathetic!"

pathetic. you're pathetic. sam blinks. you're pathetic.

yes.

yes, he is, isn't he?

"hey." dean snaps, sharp, and older sam can't stop his flinch. but dean has stepped slightly in front of him, shoulders squared. "knock it off, sam. i mean it."

"let me guess--he can't stand up for himself?" sam snaps, and sammy can't even meet his gaze because he's right. to his younger self, he must look like a child. a cardboard cut out. "say something!"

"i don't want to hear you open your fucking mouth about this again." dean says, and the room falls silent. sam gapes at him. sammy gapes at him. younger dean has fallen silent, but he takes a step back to stand next to his own sam. "sammy could rip your arms off, kid. i don't care what you think about him. he doesn't have to prove himself to you."

"i didn't say he had to!" sam protests, and sammy almost smiles. what a little hypocrite. sam misses being that righteous. that self-assured.

"dean, it's okay," sammy says quietly, feeling like he did when he was six and dean would break out of the fourth grade to come intimidate sam's bullies on the playground.

younger sam just wants reassurance. his entire life up to this point had been pushing as many boundaries as possible.

in a way--and it almost makes sam sick to think of it--he's treating him like dad. sometimes, the only way to get dad to look at him was to make him angry. dad hated to be contradicted, to be challenged, and the full force of his attention--even bad attention--was addicting when he spent most of their childhood gutting monsters just slightly off stage left.

sam's scared. he wants attention. he needs comfort.

sammy doesn't want to give him either.

but he settles for both.

"can we talk about this--"

"no." older dean says, sharply, cutting sammy off. sammy blinks, surprised. dean doesn't turn to look at him, still glaring at sam in the way a knife cuts.

"i'm really fucking disappointed." dean says. it sounds like he's going to say something else, but he's quiet.

he might as well have kicked sam. he deflates, wide eyes blinking hard.

"it's okay," sammy is quick to reassure, but dean cuts him off again.

"no. it's not." dean still doesn't look at him. "nobody gets to talk to you like that, sammy." dean's tone softens a little bit. "not even you, kid."

"everybody knock it off," younger dean says, his experience peacemaking bubbling right at the surface. "sammy let's take a lap, okay? c'mon."

"i'm..." sam starts to say. but he changes his mind, and lets himself be corralled by younger dean. his steps shake. sammy feels a little pity for him.

he knows what it feels like for dean to be angry with him. to be disappointed in him. to choose someone else over him. it's the worst feeling in the world.

suddenly, dean's pulling sammy down for a kiss. sam almost pulls back, but realizes they're now technically alone in the room. he melts into it briefly, letting dean pet through his hair and bite at his bottom lip.

when dean pulls away, he makes a humph sound.

"if you don't want me to suck your dick in here, you've got thirty seconds to get that coffee ring out." dean says, sliding the dishrags off his hands and crouching like an umpire.

"shit." sam says, and starts scrubbing.

he doesn't have everything. and later, he knows sam's words will ring in his ears and prevent him from sleeping. but dean knows exactly how to make him laugh, how to distract him, what he needs.

dean always does.

~~~

do not worry i did not forget @secondhandroad !! as you can see i have been cooking just a little bit. kisses and love to beth for this ask!!!!!!! i love gabbing about these fellas so much lol <3

-lizzy

[http-drabbles]

soulmate, soulmate where are you? 2

1.3k words of absolute crushing angst, it's 7am and i woke up to write. shall i be evil and let this be the final part? mayhaps.

warnings: s/h and making jungkook sad (:W)

fuck fuck fuck.

skimming every question and typing out my answer feels a lot like betrayal. name, age, country of residence, when my soulmate mark appeared, contact details, translator needed, agreeing to a declaration that if my soulmate mark was found to be fraudulent i could face a fine or jail time. i tick the box by his name, attach a photo of my mark and send the form off. the confirmation email is too cheery it makes my jaw ache at how i grind my teeth.

i don't want to talk about the circumstances that lead me to fill out that form, to apply for a loan that covers travel cost and a hotel for this. the woman who helped me fill out the form was again all too cheery, wishing me a good luck and all i could do was smile so fucking limply back at her while noticing lipstick smudged against her teeth.

a month passes and i'm gleeful, maybe it's a network error and my form never submitted. i'm free and can tell the loan company to cancel my plan, i don't go on social media to see what jungkook is up to and in those weeks the nightmare is over and i embrace my loneliness.

the email arrives at 16:21. heathrow to seoul, a contact at hybe will meet me at the airport. id needed. date of when i'm expected to actually meet jungkook, with a disclaimer that it may change due to fluctuating schedule. the tiger lily tingles, and i almost see the petals opening ready to accept him.

"don't get your hopes up, i can always email them back to get out of this."

i don't. of course i don't because i'm standing in a Costa in London Fucking Heathrow next to the hybe contact who is analysing their croissants like it's the key to end all misery. i wished i could look at croissants with that much intensity.

she asked once to see my soulmate mark, gave it a one second glance over and then typed something down in her phone, i wondered how many people she's flown with to Korea. more than ten i would bet. i don't ask, i'm not conversational but when we're waiting in the queue holding out boarding passes i blurt to her.

"i haven't flown before. i've got a fear of it i think."

she passes me a sleeping tablet and i bump her number from ten to a solid fifteen.

korea is pretty, face practically smushed against the taxi window i take in every single detail i can. there's an over-abundance of signs, low hanging wires and roads so tiny it's a miracle a car can pass through them. i don't take photos, i rely on my brain to remember and then forget.

hybe is anything but pretty, more like a grey lump of concrete and glass. i sign two more documents and the translator informs me that in two days time i will be meeting jungkook, but not officially meeting. more like my arm will be stuck through a gap and our soulmate marks will touch, i will have to wear a mitt because some people had become a little too excited and scratchy. my mark is thoroughly inspected this time, deemed official and not a tattoo i'm driven over to my hotel.

i don't unpack, staring at the forms in my hand which are a mix of korean and english i almost laugh. traitor. stupid traitor.

over the next two days i come to two big conclusions, one kimchi is too sour but the rice cakes should be considered a universal delicacy and two, is it too late to back out?

is it too late to back out? i'm in the taxi, i consider clawing the windows for escape but i decide that digging my fingers into my belly helps ease my nerves. can i back out? hybe is cold, the ac is too strong and there's other girls in the room i'm lead into. shy smiles as i plop myself in the back. we are called alphabetically. is it possible to back out? there's four of us left now, i didn't bother counting us as a whole. i can't stop digging my nails into my stomach.

i can't back out. my name is called and somehow my body removes the hand from my belly and i walk myself over to the room. there's a row of grey screen partitions that divide the room, a small slither in the middle presumably where my arm will go. it hits me jungkook is on the other side and i bite my bottom lip hard to avoid laughing. tugging my sleeve up a staff member puts the mitt on securely, another verbal warning to not do anything harmful to the artist.

artist and not his name.

i sit down on the chair, staring into that small space to catch a sight of him but there's nothing. i don't mind a fine, or jail time. i hope it's not real. deliberately slowly i raise my arm, putting it through the gap with my tiger lily facing upwards. the air shifts around my arm and i feel him. warm as his tiger lily presses against mine.

at first nothing, and i almost let out the loudest sigh of relief and then it is everything. in the mitt my fingers jerk, i pull away like i've been electrocuted clutching my arm but it's energy, pure energy. thrum. drum. drum.

he's tearing the partitions apart and i stagger back, nearly falling over the chair to get away from him. frantic korean, something more reassuring from a staff member and then he pokes his head through. beaming smile, he's so happy to see me and i guess i'm somewhere between absolutely mortified and in complete shock. his sleeve is rolled up and i notice his tiger lily has fully blossomed, a quick glance down at mine and i realise mine is the same.

he speaks again, approaching me like he wants to hug me but seeing that i'm backing away like a rabid animal he slows, contains himself and glances at the translator and back at me.

"hello. i'm jungkook. it's nice to meet you finally." oh god. too much. he's too kind and his cologne has infiltrated my nostrils and i'm so glad the mitt is still on because i'd be clawing at my nose to stop smelling it.

"s-sorry.. can't." i give the staff member who brought me in here the universal look of, 'get-me-the-fuck-out-of-here-now.' i am ignored.

"sorry?" he tilts his head in pure confusion, he looks worried. i hate him for it. "don't be sorry. it's okay. i'm happy."

i glance around the room and notice i'm being recorded, i don't know what sets me off more. he's too close, the camera, him, why is he so close? he touches my shoulder to comfort me and i jerk away, i can't stop looking at the camera and the other staff members who are beaming at us.

"i'm sorry," my eyes lock with his, "i don't want you." he doesn't understand and i glance at the translator.

she looks sad and very softly tells him what i've said, he doesn't seem to believe her because he presses his fingers against the tiger lily and shakes his head.

"us. this is us." he's struggling to speak himself and i can see him remembering. he's really looking at my arm now, clearer. the burns, the cuts. all the times i've tried to prune that cancerous flower from my arm. almost physically wounded he takes a step back.

"i'm sorry, i don't want this." the translator repeats my words and all he does is nod.

he nods and i leave.

[holybibly]

hi!! i’m a writer myself and despite having mdni on my blog, i still get a lot of minors trying to with my work. i regularly have to check my followers for ages in their bio and i’ve even had minors come in my inbox telling me that i’m ’overreacting’ for not wanting them to read my writing. it’s gotten to the point where i’ve just turned off anon altogether, partially because of the weird people in my inbox and partially so i know i can be safe and not respond to minors by accident.

i guess what i’m trying to get at here is even though you have mdni on your blog, how can you be sure that the people in your inbox aren’t minors. there’s nothing physically stopping them from coming on your blog and sending sexual asks and you seem to facilitate these asks by responding in an equally sexual manner. i hope i’m not coming across as rude, but i just don’t see how you can be sure that you’re not engaging with minors when you respond to anons in a flirtatious and sexual way. if you somehow do check their ages, great! but since they’re anon, i don’t really see how that’s possible…

So, hello. Well, the wording of the question is rather crude to begin with, don't you think? And frankly, I'd prefer to take such questions to DM posts, but if you want to talk, you're welcome. 

First of all, don't you think it's a bit unfair? Accusing anonymous people and then asking a question anonymously? I don't think it's very nice, or do you think I'm going to declare a witch hunt and go on a bashing spree? That's so stupid. Or do you just not like me? Because that's what it sounds like. In general, I don't mind you having an opinion, but by sending a message like that, you knew I'd respond to it. 

Secondly, I know this is going to sound awful and you can totally throw a bunch of shitty comments and posts at me, but let's be honest, even if we check the age of our subscribers and readers every time they subscribe to us, when they ask us questions, comment, reblog, etc., where is the 100% guarantee that those people didn't lie about their age when they created their blog on Tumblr? 

Go to any porn site; age verification is just a tick in the box. These are the horrible realities we face every day. The internet is a place where it is very difficult to verify anything, and unfortunately, there are consequences.

I am in no way supporting the sexualization of minors, and I am certainly not engaging in depravity, although you make it sound that way. 

But I do know that there are many people who can't talk openly about their desires, sexual or otherwise; people who doubt their sexuality and self-acceptance; people who are judged for being different; people who are shamed for being too feminine or masculine; for having problems with daddy or mommy; or simply for being too quiet and shy. Not all of us are going to come out for manifestos and parades. 

And in this case, the only option for them is anonymity. I repeat, I do not support the sexualization of minors in any way, and if you want to accuse me of encouraging such things, I suggest you look at some of the profiles of authors on AO3 who openly use sex scenes with minors and even children in the text of their work. 

I don't know your social circle as a writer, and since you're asking this anonymously, I can't even check your work, but I think the problem is not whether I answer anonymous questions or not, but whether I talk to my bunnies at all. Every time I get messages like this, I think about it. You call me weird, angry, triggering, and now a lecher. Not directly, but the context is clear. 

I've never written messages like that to anyone; you know, it's not nice. I've never intended to offend or hurt anyone with my replies or FFs. But apparently everyone around me, for some strange reason, thinks I'm some source of universal evil while trying to retrain me and change my character and disposition. 

I really hope you are happy with what you are doing. 

Bunnies, I'm sorry. There will be no updates for a while. 

[aleksanderscult]

my favorite interpretation of him is as a man who WANTS that companionship and love but. He’s been burned so many times before, falling in love with people he outlived due to war and his slower aging. So he can’t allow himself to be hurt like that again. Deep inside his little black heart he would love to be equals with Alina but unfortunately years of trauma and pain have left him entirely unable to exist in a relationship that doesn’t have a power imbalance in his favor. He doesn’t know how to let go of his want for power even in his relationships anymore. And now that he needs Alina for his Grand Schemes, well he definitely can’t fall in love with her without potentially fucking up his plan, right? He needs her to do many very specific things and he can’t be blinded by Real Emotion that might make him change his mind so instead he keeps her at arms length while making her THINK her feelings are requited and he pulls her strings to get her to do what he needs so that his centuries of living will have paid off. And deep deep down the man he used to be yearns to have built something real with her, to have companionship who won’t die in the blink of an eye, someone who understands this Otherness he experiences, an equal. If only the man he’d become could stand to let go of the reins in any relationship for more than like. Thirty seconds. Lol

⚠️TW!: sexual abuse and sexual assault! mentioned at some point⚠️

Yup. You get it, anon!

My favorite interpretation of him is as a man who WANTS that companionship and love but he’s been burned so many times before, falling in love with people he outlived due to war and his slower aging. So he can’t allow himself to be hurt like that again.

I completely agree to all of this!

What antis seem unable to understand is that the Darkling is human most of all. Not a villain, not a hero, not a Grisha but a human being with human emotions and needs. In fact, I find him the most human character in the Grisha trilogy. We all want love and companionship. None of us likes the feeling of loneliness (it's one thing to want to be alone and another to be lonely) and the Darkling is no different in this aspect. He wants to love and be loved. He wants someone to keep him company forever, to not abandon him because of betrayal, death, age or mortality. He doesn't want to be alone. For centuries he suffered from it and was desperate to find someone to fill this void. Alina was this person. She ticked (most of) the boxes for him.

(just a small pause to say that we can also see evidence of his desire to feel and live human things in RoW:

(He might considered otkazat'sya beneath him, but the feeling of humanity was something surprisingly pleasant for him. And he seeked Alina out to feel this way again. Even though he denied it:)

(A part of him wanted something simple. Peace and calm and a girl that loved him and he loved her at his side.)

If I could describe the Darkling's need for someone to join him and be with him, for Alina to come to him and love him, I would use this passage from the book "City of Heavenly Fire":

“Imagine if you were the last Shadowhunter left on earth (in this case let's use the term "the last Grisha of your kind"), imagine if all your family and friends were dead, imagine if there were no one left who even believed in what you were. Imagine if you were on the earth in a billion, billion years, after the sun had scorched away all the life, and you were crying out from inside yourself for just one single living creature to still draw breath alongside you, but there was nothing, only rivers of fire and ashes. Imagine being that lonely. And then imagine there was only one way to fix it. Then imagine what you would do to make that thing happen.”

THIS is how I imagine the Darkling's desperation to gain Alina. His last hope for love and companionship.

He has been hurt hundreds of times in the past. The lovers he had, the people he fell in love were dying in front of his eyes from their mortality. Others couldn't understand his powers, couldn't fathom him as a person (because I bet almost all, if not all, his lovers were otkazat'sya). So at some point, he just gave up. Gave up on love and stopped having relationships. He wouldn't be hurt again, he wouldn't allow it.

Deep inside his little black heart he would love to be equals with Alina but unfortunately years of trauma and pain have left him entirely unable to exist in a relationship that doesn’t have a power imbalance in his favor. He doesn’t know how to let go of his want for power even in his relationships anymore.

"his little black heart" that sounded so cute 🥺🫶😭

And, yes, I agree that deep inside (veeery deeply though) he wanted to be equals with Alina because on one hand it seemed right to him, logically and strategically (she had the power of light, he had the power of darkness. They were both immortal and she had a strong spirit). But years had already passed where he had the control in all things. Okay, not all. He couldn't stop Kings and Queens from making stupid or unspeakable things (and yes I'm alluding Genya's sexual assault from the King here). But he had a habit that he couldn't break. "Old habits die hard" fits here. He couldn't put aside his need for domination and just say "Yeah sure do whatever you want in this relationship, Alina! Peace and love!🥰✌️". No, he would still want to have the upper hand in their relationship and their rule.

And now that he needs Alina for his Grand Schemes, well he definitely can’t fall in love with her without potentially fucking up his plan, right? He needs her to do many very specific things and he can’t be blinded by Real Emotion that might make him change his mind so instead he keeps her at arms length while making her THINK her feelings are requited and he pulls her strings to get her to do what he needs so that his centuries of living will have paid off.

Yup. He didn't want to fall in love with her. Just to manipulate her. But the problem is that we don't choose when to fall in love and who. It just happens. And that fucked him up emotionally.

1) Because he hadn't felt that emotion in years.

2) Because it wasn't part of his plans, just like you said.

He literally panicked and didn't know what to do and he certainly didn't know how to express it in a healthy manner.

Alina's constant rejection and rebellion against him (+ her love for Mal and her choosing only him) made him go feral and do impulsive things. Made him fuck up his well-thought-out plans. So, in the end, he really is a person that sometimes let his emotions rule his mind unwillingly.

About him making her think that her emotions are requited, it's a complicated matter. In R&R he confirmed that he seduced her (if you call that seduction) as part of his manipulation.

But I think he also played himself back then at S&B. He tried to appease her worries at that time and in S&B it seemed genuine. Honestly, for me, it still does. But, according to him (and Bardugo) he did it to feel more bound to him, more loyal.

BUT! I think that in the meantime he played himself and caught feelings.

Like "He he I'm gonna make her feel good for herself 😈......shit.....now I feel something for her. FUCK!!"

But he would never admit that to Alina. Not in a verbal way anyway. Because when he gave her his name it was a type of love confession (GIVING HER HIS HEART, HELLO??).

I kinda agree that he wanted to make her feel that her feelings were requited but he also must have been like "but let's not tell her that I also caught feelings👀👀".

He wanted to fulfill his plans, yes. But he also fell in love with her in the process and everything went DOWNHILL FOR HIM.

And deep deep down the man he used to be yearns to have built something real with her, to have companionship who won’t die in the blink of an eye, someone who understands this Otherness he experiences, an equal. If only the man he’d become could stand to let go of the reins in any relationship for more than like. Thirty seconds. Lol

Hard agree to all of this too.

Just like I said, he didn't know how to live a life without controlling it and everyone in it.

[helpitsaskingmequestions]

Continuing the process of niche petty nitpicks of Wheel of TIme  there were some narrative choices for the  7 Ajah that make them (imo) uncertain in a way that I think could have been smoothed out in a way to make more narrative sense in terms of motivation, size and narrative framing. 

Reds - 

The Reds at least have a clear purpose in and out of the narrative as Aes Sedai that hunt male channelers & an antagonistic force against Moraine (Blue) and Rand (Male channeler). They’re problems largely come in how the text largely frames them as Narrative Heels but for Pevara & to some extent Teslyn and Silviana, all of whom are introduced fairly late. Even then, the Reds are largely characterised as 90s misandrists,n keeping with Alanna’s framing of the Reds as ‘hating men’ because that's what should define a group of women, how they relate to men. Then comes the size of the Reds - it’s been noted that there are less people who can channel being discovered, in part due to the Vileness and the culling of men who can channel by the Reds (and also Cansaune) yet the Reds are the largest Ajah. That the Reds have the strongest numbers is imo a very blunt object solution to 1) making the Blue’s more like an underdog and 2) have a large ground for Black Ajah. 

Changes that I think would have made the Reds more palatable from a worldbuild perspective 

Expand the purpose - the show did this, effectively making the Reds magic cops, which provides a more concrete cause for Reds to devote themselves to - hunting wayward Aes Sedai, men who can channel and Dark Friends. It would also help explain why there are so many Black Ajah in the Red - what better way to hide from the cops than to Be the cops?

Let them have Warders - there was no reason for them not to have warders, female or male or otherwise. 

Shrink their size - have the Reds be in the middle of the pack in terms of numbers, or else have them have a high casualty/fail rate that can be explained by difficult weaves & Black Ajah sisters etc. There is no logical reason for them to be that big. 

I mean ⅕ of all Aes Sedai Robert?

Don’t define them by ‘hating men’. Robert I am in your walls

Non-antagonist Reds early on - whether Pevara or Teslyn, just some calmer Reds, who do genuinely want to Hunt Dark-friends. Use the Wonder Girls time in the White Tower not just as a box tick, explore the Ajahs more.  

Show - on page - what a male channel who succumbed to the Taint looks like. The books give (imo) hints describing the Breaking but its not seen on page & I feel that this concrete example of why male channellers are cut off from the Source, why the Reds hunt them, and why people fear Rand/male channelers would be important considering we get a lot of on page stuff (Logain, Thom re his nephew) about the pain of gentling male channelers

Browns 

Ah the Browns. Clean direct purpose. Narrative letting them fulfil that function. Ajah of Verin, the Best Character in Wheel of Time (no arguments to be taken on this point. I am simply Correct). I find very little to be changed with the Browns, though I do think that there should have been an exploratory division if this is the Ajah of knowledge. 

Also not entirely certain why the White/Grey/see Ajah colours post is separate from the Brown beyond the fact RJ was a physics major 

Best Ajah - should have had an Indiana Jones Brown/Orange sister finding Age of Legends stuff

That the Browns get warders makes the fact the Reds, a physical division actively fighting people, not having Warders more insane. Robert WHY

Should have schools/ travelling schools as well 

Why no Browns in Rand’s nerd school Robert?

Yellow

Much like the Brown, a wonderfully defined Ajah, with a clear purpose in and out of universe.

Let them be nicer to Nynaeve

Black Yellows should have been allowed to go full Dr Moreau

Imagine fresh monsters

Green

The Green Ajah - the Battle Ajah. imo Robert Jordan’s favourite Ajah considering 2 out of 3 of the Wondergirls chose the Green (even though Egg should have been Ajahless its fine I’m calm so Calm) and the Green get to ‘love men’ because as the narrative has made clear, how these groups of women from this administrative magical institution feel about Men is what is important. Also a fun experiment - check to see what colours get positive associations in the books - generally it’s blue, green and white (listed as Lan’s favourite colours for instance). The Greens are also an unfortunate victim of the Gender Stuff in WoT- the Battle Ajah don’t get weapons, but they can have lots of Men who can have weapons. Because they Love Men. 

Changes

Let them have weapons Robert ffs 

Active preparation for the Last Battle; should have the third most number of advisors/relationships in nations as Greys(Purples) and Blues. 

Why are they ignoring the Borderlands? This is their Job 

I think the show made a good case for the Greens and the Reds going to nab Logain

So why are the Greens more allied with the Blues than the Reds - other than Author Caveat

Elayne and Egwene shouldn’t have been Green. Neither should Cadsuane.

More Black sisters in the Green - if the Green are going to be fighting in the last battle it should be chock full of enemy agents  

Blue

What do the Blue do? They Hunt After Causes - but what does the Mean? No Really what does it mean, apart from being Vague and because RJ couldn’t say ‘they’re the Good ajah’ even though they only ‘like men’. Other than their complete lack of purpose, the Blues get a good history, a good selection of the Good/Great (Moraine) to the bad (Sheriam). The Show made a good change in making the Blue’s the spies of the White Tower, giving them a quasi opposing ideological approach to the head-first reds, and making the Alliance of Greens and Blues make more sense considering how much they would need to work together. 

If Egg must have an Ajah she should have been Blue 

The fact that blues removed the 2 Red Amyrlin’s, there should have been more arguments amongst the Ajah’s about how justified they were/the justice of that 

Lean into the Reds being Cops and Blues being spies/activist/journalists/internal affairs with a habit of exposing/attempting to expose other sister’s misbehaviour 

Have Blue sisters attempting to uncover the Vileness in a way that actually sets it up as a mystery to be solved, not another plot thread among thousands

I have a Bee in my Bonnet about the Vileness  if you couldn’t tell 

Make the Blues less of an protagonist situation - oh they have the second smallest numbers But the Most Amyrlins and a lot of influence because they’re the opposite of the Reds 

Grey/Purple Ajah 

They have purpose If only the narrative would let them fulfil that purpose. Instead Elaida is a Red so political advisors can be any colour so why?

Also why are they always bad at their jobs

Should have been the largest Ajah change my mind 

White/Grey Ajah 

SO

I understand they have a purpose 

I just don’t understand why/how it is different to the Brown’s search for knowledge 

They’re apparently philosophers as well so it's not a STE(M) v Arts situation

Why Robert 

You didn’t have the Seven Ajahs have the Seven colours why are they Here? 

Because Alviarin being White and the Head Black was a fun twist? 

You did that colour twist with Lanfear already 

What this Ajah needed was a major character who wasn’t Black

Like Give Rand an advisor who is this Ajah during his spiral 

Or Give Egg some prominent sisters of this Ajah? 

Have their theoretical magic that they do have an impact

Or give them the prophecies / religious theorisation - aka a reason for them to be in this story at all 

Black Ajah

There is no Black Ajah what are you talking about 

[vampirecatsw]

*CLAPS HANDS AND RUBS THEM TOGETHER* NOW THAT I'M FINISHED ANSWERING YOUR ASK, CYN. (BLESS YOU, BLESS YOU!) PLEASE DO THE CHARACTER OPINION BINGO FOR KAITO, AOKO, SHINICHI, AND RAN. PRETTY PLEASE. MAY YOUR DAY BE SPECTACULAR!

Hi! Here's my ask with drawings (of various quality, you can see as I drew more I got more into the swing HAAHHAH. That's what I get for being so rusty - I don't actually draw that often.) The colours I used are ones I associate with the characters!

ft. my very informal writing style, probably like a thousand typos because I'm typing this at 1am, and many shoutouts to amazing dcmk creators 🥰

Also, please check out Anna's ask! https://akai-anna.tumblr.com/post/739521989281234944/hey-there-my-lovely-mutual-3-3-i-love-when-you

Anna, you're so lovely, fr. I hope this makes you giggle and swing your feet, I had such a fun time thinking about them! I added my own flair with my drawings <3

Feel free to ask me to decipher any handwriting

P.s. That character with the hat you'll see is my sona! I'm calling him Sol because that's another online name I seem to take up often. Feel free to call me Sol as well!

(Shameless plug: Check out my art blog - cyndraws - if you like my art! Also, it has some au ramblings too ^v^. https://cyndraws.tumblr.com/)

KAITO

Bingo count: 4 (well, If I ticked only more more box, I could have extra bingos for almost every extra box I ticked haha...)

The art: I gave up at first and just drew him as a stick figure. Then I added clothes to him, that's why he's so proportionally off,,, My beloved blorbo, I feel like I did you so dirty 😭

Fun challenge: Guess what I was inspired by when I drew Kaito's and Aoko's outfits.

I'm literally in love with him no joke. The love is too intense aughhdfk. What kind of love? Yes. I would do anything for him. I'd be so clingy fr.

Headcanons? Sooo many. Not even a joke. They're too integrated into my brain at this point so yeah haha

His HANDS. Slim and very fast and flexible. They have callouses - screw smooth hands. Callouses as a sign of his hard work throughout his entire life.

Fox? He's a fox. So silly, little trickster. https://www.tumblr.com/cyndraws/739418480470851584/look-me-in-the-eyes-and-tell-me-kaito-isnt-a-fox

Let's just link my simping art here too: https://www.tumblr.com/cyndraws/739224275061456896/im-such-a-simp-help-me-kaito-simps-unite-pls Please let me squish his cheeks please...PLEASE

Bonus: Old character opinion bingo for Kaito: https://cyndraws.tumblr.com/post/739190201679757312/everyone-if-im-going-to-expose-myself-as-a-kaito I got over the fear 👍 It's from a while back, like maybe... 2022? idk

I love unhinged Kaito

Gender? Please. I'll take any masc at this point HAHAH

Canon isn't real - Like it's amazing but also like... underwhelming. *Shakes it vigorously* GIVE ME MORE. MORE EKODA GANG. MORE SUPPORT FOR KAITO. LET KAITO CRY. I WANT MORE WORLD BUILDING ON AKAKO AND TO SEE THE KUROBA FAMILY MORE (+ a billion more requests.) PLEASE GOSHO IM BEGGING

(It's ok, I got the fics for these cravings 👍)

~

2. AOKO

Bingo count: 0

Wow. I realised just how little brain space I dedicate to her... but she's also so silly. I love her so much. She's a great character to pair up with Kaito (for any relationships, I love when they're having fun together.) She doesn't need more suffering <3

I love sm how in MK1412 they added extra scenes of the Ekoda gang! And Aoko looks so cute in it! (everyone else? ... it varies)

Snowball fight! ^

Now this is a hella hot take but I personally think KaiAo is much more interesting than ShinRan (for me). And fun too, because I've always been drawn to fun and teasing dynamics like these over the more romantic ones (if you get what I mean by more romantic). KaiAo and Shinran both are such wonderful couples though. *Bangs fists on table* THEY'RE BOTH SO UNBEARABLE CUTEEE

Someone told me I have very similar vibes to Aoko and I've been reevaluating myself XDD. No but I can see it. I think we have a similar energy (in my brain at least, I'm much more tired when I go out) and even preferred fashion.

Would give her a kiss anytime. Definitely. Let's go out on a picnic and have a fun hangout. We would be good friends.

Aolele theory by alizardjae: Please check it out!!! https://alizardjae.tumblr.com/post/134111960564/alright-finally-got-around-to-writing-this-thing Basically it's the summary I wrote up there. I whole heartedly believe in it, because it's a fun theory and I've done it before myself (...ehem annoying relatives) - so it's definitely believable. And I love the idea of Aoko Holmes being carried over from Nonchalant Lupin (<- Prototype of Magic Kaito. It's a fun read!)

~

3. SHINICHI/CONAN

Bingo count: 4

Drawing was inspired by that scene where Conan gets suspicious of Hanzawa-san (from The Culprit Hanzawa, a spinoff of dcmk.)

Ok, so the thing is, I have a very strange relationship with him.

He's so silly, right? He so fun, he's adorable, so caring and well meaning, but I'm scared of him. I wouldn't want to meet him. I'm terrified even though he's so nice 😭. So I'd rather observe from a distance (hence the drawing ^ but I'd definitely set off his senses a lot.)

(What does it say about me that I'm scared of Shin/Cone but not Kaito? I'm working on overcoming my fear of Conan/Shin, I promise *on my hands and knees* I REALLY AM)

(My irl friend understands why I'm so terrified, I've explained the crazy stunts he's done and his very illegal spy equipment to them... they actually got a nightmare about Conan that night. He's such a law breaking little gremlin (affectionate)) So...no kisses for you, detective... only because I'm too intimidated 😭 But I'll gladly make content dedicated to you and fawn over you <3

If it's not already obvious, Kai > Shin/Cone for me. But he's definitely a close second.

Shin's/Cone's aesthetic? So peak. His detective work and general vibes with the series is so banging. That clean formal attire - I love wearing more formal stuff out. Being judged for it? At this point I don't really care hahaha. His mismatching outfits are so endearing, but I don't really vibe with them.

Canon is kinda frustrating for me. Well, as usual, I love to pick out the pieces I love and keep them dear to my heart. Ugh I want more identity issues and character relationship focuses. And more Shinran, this is literally ridiculous for slowburn lol.

~

4. RAN

Bingo count: 0

I drew a masterpiece for her. As she deserves 🥰. (Fun fact, this is the first time I've drawn her properly.)

Drawing inspirations:

Sakura Class! It was so adorable. I loved seeing the povs of both Shin and Ran. The Sakura couple,,, 🥺🥺 why are they so cute

LavenderTowne! Her art is amazing and her art tips are always so helpful: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCD4XIm3ZFhT72WjqhIXMN9w

In particular, I used these two tutorials: Easy Background: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/Zw5oB-ir5R0 Easy Lighting: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/shWoTarp_Vk

*ehem* Back to our ask now

Ran is so lovely! Such a queen, so adorable, such an icon! Have you seen her puff out her cheeks in chapter 1120? (+ many other instances of her being cute of course.)

(^ well, now you've seen it)

I love her with sass! It's so funny and fitting for her. And paired with her badassness? Wow. She's amazing. She has such a big heart too <3

I can see how Shinichi fell for her at first sight, she really is so pretty and cute. Her smile was such a direct hit to his heart XD

Obligatory shoutouts!:

Amazing Shinran analysis by rabbitsrants: https://www.tumblr.com/rabbitsrants/737479648281329664?source=share

Really REALLY cute Shinran art by detshin: https://www.tumblr.com/detshin/734222664310358016?source=share https://www.tumblr.com/detshin/734913462286909440?source=share Their blog also has really cute Shinran content!

For some reason, I associate the english localised names to the more sarcastic and witty characterisations in the funimation dub. That's why I wrote Rachel.

Maybe it's because of halfpenny_jones's amazing characterisation: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfpenny_jones/pseuds/halfpenny_jones/works?fandom_id=964594 Please check out their works too!

~

That's the end~ Thanks so much for asking! It was so enjoyable to ponder and draw. And I'll always take opportunities to talk about them.

Feel free to chat again whenever you feel like it <3 And also, feel free to ask about many other things too, like more character bingos or aus if you find them interesting. I hope you also enjoy them if you go through them.

See you next illusion~

[razorblade180]

Found

Aether:*opens letter*

“Hello my student! If you’re reading this…”

Aether:…Paimon, I’m going out to the desert and will be back deep into the night.

…..

Aether:Paimon?

He peeks into her open room to see her engrossed in one of her many new murder mystery books. She gives him a thumbs up without looking up from the page. Aether kinda wished he knew her reading tastes earlier. His companion actually looked well off with her own company.

xxxxx

A short boat ride and a detailed map showed him the way into ancient ruins where it didn’t take long for him to find Faruzan under a mural as she fiddled with ancient mechanisms.

Aether:Is class still in session?

Faruzan:Huh? Oh! Hello Aether. Fancy meeting you all the way out here. Did the appeal of my studies finally sink its nails into you?

Aether:*holds letter* Happy Birthday.

Faruzan:…Ah, yes. *red* I can’t believe I actually forgot. Good thing I had the foresight to write the letter!

Aether:Why do I have the feeling you could’ve simply chosen not to be here until after your birthday.

Faruzan:Idle hands lose their talents. If you had a lead an important lead to your journeys around your birthday, you wouldn’t dally now would you? *smiles*

Aether:Fair enough. So are we in this together or am I escorting you back?

Faruzan:I wrapped up what I was curious about. Also as your senior, it would be rather rude to keep you out here after disrupting your day. Let’s head back to my camp at least.

She gathered her belongings and walked beside Aether. Faruzan wasn’t expecting him to casually hand her a small wrapped box, but that didn’t stop her eyes from lighting up.

Faruzan:Going the extra mile are we? If I didn’t know any better I’d say you remembered my birthday without the letter I sent you. *opens box*

Inside were small silver and golden gears and components fashioned into a rather interesting bracelet. Not only did it match her particular style, but from intricate design, Faruzan immediately realized this wasn’t a rushed job. It would in fact take time in advance to make this. She looked over at Aether who smiled smugly at her comment.

Faruzan:Well aren’t we cheeky today? Thank you for the gift.

Aether:I’m always fighting mechanical stuff. I should thank you for giving me something to do with the extra pieces. Now you don’t have to miss me as much.

Faruzan:The nerve! You only just left! I have classes to teach and a variety of other things to keep me preoccupied. You should be flattered if I spare a moment to wonder how you are so-

tick-tick-tick

Aether watched Faruzan look down at the new bracelet she wore as they walked under the desert moon. The analytic woman quickly figured out the accessory was also a puzzle that she solved remarkably quickly; Aether took time to make it but looks like he was severely outwitted in terms of puzzle design. A circle plate on it opened up to reveal moving gears that glowed light blue.

Faruzan:Oh! It functions as a watch?

Aether:Kinda. It’s a timer you can set. I’m sure you could probably make it into a full blown watch but I’m not clever enough for all that. Still, with this timer you can always know how long you’ve been in a ruin. It’ll help you remember people are waiting to see you again.

Stunned into silence. Faruzan was never one to dwell on the past, but his words resonated deeply. She was never bothered by going things alone or getting lost in her research. If Aether hadn’t shown up today, then nothing would’ve been lost. However, now that he was here, Faruzan felt a sense of warmth from having someone waiting for her. So many people had waited for her return. It was…a relief to be on time for once. Enjoying the quiet company, she grabbed his hand as they continued walking through the vast desert.

[nihilnovisubsole]

Hiiii since I'm incredibly curious - what is the workflow process at your job? As in, when you get assigned something to write who does it come from, where does it go, what details do you get about it, and do you get to go wild with it or are you given rules or parameters to write in? I'm of course not asking for secrets or names, just the general process because it's really fascinating to me! I'm a long, long, long time follower and wanted to let you know it's been an honor to go from reading your FNV fanfics to seeing you work for the company itself. I'm extremely proud of you!

do you reckon it would be weird if i re-polished that FNV fic and posted it on ao3. i think about it in the shower sometimes

anyway! my workflow depends on a lot of different things. unless i have a large writing assignment that takes me a long time, it's rare for me to do the same tasks two days in a row. i write a lot, but i spend at least as much time editing, fixing bugs, or helping another department solve a problem. the "pitch an idea" stage is short.

when you get assigned something to write, who does it come from? either a producer or someone from the nebulous cloud called "leadership," like the game director or my narrative lead. sometimes it's a direct request, or sometimes they'll say "we have this thing that needs doing," and i can volunteer if i have time. like a lot of studios, we have an online work inbox - producers assign tasks through it, and i close them when i'm done.

where does it go? if you mean "where it goes in the game," pretty much anywhere. one day i could write dialogue. one day i could name items, or something like that. once i'm done, it gets handed off to another department to implement in the game itself. many NDs have to touch their game's engine. i don't, thank god!

what details do you get about it? this one depends too, because i've done work that's wholly mine, and i've also written on assignments that were someone else's first. sometimes an ND writes something, but when we revisit it months later, they're busy with more important work, so i need to pinch-hit for them. or they leave, and someone needs to take on the work they left behind. either way, i try to retain as much of their vision as i can. technically, they forfeit ownership of that writing if they leave, and i'm not beholden to them. but i don't like that, so i keep them in mind anyway. i just know i'd feel bad if someone took one of my characters and turned them into something that flouted all my principles.

if i'm starting from scratch, i'll definitely get parameters. they're vague ingredients that have to inform the ideas i pitch. for NDA reasons, these aren't specific examples, but it could be like:

"we need a guy in X Area so players will talk to him and find the item we hid there."

"this quest needs the player to do something in X Dungeon."

"this encounter needs to teach the player to use a special ability."

"this quest needs to teach the player about a conflict between two groups."

"this character should introduce X Worldbuilding Concept."

"we want to give the player X Reward."

they sound utilitarian, but they don't have to be. i can still go wild as long as i tick the right boxes. they're more guardrails than anything. in game writing, where you have limited assets, you have to be careful not to get out ahead of your skis and pitch something the team can't make. you also don't want to put the player in a situation you haven't taught them how to handle, or confuse them with your world. i mean, they're still confused sometimes, but... you know!

[starleska]

Hi! Just started following you, love your Jack Horner content.

Can we get some headcanons for Jack Horner with a partner who’s like, really small (like barely 5”0) but also super powerful? I can imagine they’re just a little entity that Jack captured at some point in time but eventually fell for them because of how strong they are.

hey there lovely!!! thanks so much for your patience on my responding to this ask, and for being so nice 🥺💖 i'm glad my love for this awful man resonates so much with so many people!!

OOOH yes yes yes, i love this prompt!! i am a tiny individual myself, a little below 5'0'', so this ticks all the right boxes 😉 i hope this is what you were looking for!!

'Big' Jack Horner x Small Reader Headcanons:

⭐ Jack underestimates you from the beginning. we all know Mr. 'Big' Jack Horner has immense pride in his enormous stature and values physical, measurable power above all else, so the thought of a small individual like you packing a serious punch is laughable to him. it isn't until you knock the man off his feet - either with a well-aimed punch or a serious burst of magic - that he realises your true value. unfortunately for you, being coveted by Jack Horner is a compromising position to be in 👀 ⭐ Jack tries to keep you captive, but fails. a lifetime of power-based biases is not something Jack can let go of overnight, and he makes the mistake of thinking that despite your strength you can be contained with measures seemingly befitting of your size. naturally, you escape with ease, and Jack grows more and more frustrated as he increases the intensity and manner of your confinement. when you break out for the seventh time and take out his entire Baker's Dozen single-handedly, Jack ends up face-to-face with you (or rather, chest-to-face) - furious, sweaty, and powerful - and he finds himself flustered 😳 ⭐ you and Jack form a mutual bond of respect. despite his constant teasing about your height, you begin to hold Jack in high regard as you see the way he rules his factory and workers with an iron fist, as well as the passion with which he pursues his magic goals. likewise, Jack is taken with your strength and tenacity; he likes to watch you train, and out of the corner of your eye you catch the colour rising in his cheeks when he sees you bench-press an impossible weight, or level miles of woodland with a single magic burst. physical size is only part of the puzzle, Jack will come to understand…and with you, he knows that powerful things come in small packages 😉